His Butler, A Father's Touch
by HeartElyse
Summary: After Sebastian starts taking it upon himself to teach Ciel in more ways than one, a weakness begins to creep in on Ciel, one that he cannot shake, no matter what he tries. "Do you not know that you stand no chance of replacing him? Or do you already know, but you don't care anyway, because you know how much it hurts me?..."NOT YAOI. Contains 'Spanking' as a form of discipline.
1. A Father's Touch

**Hey guys!**

 **Welcome to my second 'Black Butler' story! I've had this story sitting on my computer for quite sometime now, as I was a little unsure if I should post a story like this or not, but after finding so few stories like this, I just thought what the hell! Now, I'm just going to say before you start reading that yes, this probably does sound familiar to other stories like this that you've read; I'm not going to sit here and deny it, cause that would just be stupid! However, my intention was not to copy, but to simply have fun writing my own story on a similar topic, giving it my own spin, and also while I do really like this type of story, I lack ideas, so while I am happy to have this story stand on its own as a one-shot, if you guys have any ideas on some 'fatherly Bassy' stories that you would like to see, don't hesitate to let me know. Not all of them have to be 'spanking', but all of them must be free of Yaoi, because I want this story to remain Yaoi-free, as while I respect people's opinion of Yaoi, I personally dislike it.**

 **Anyway, just as a warning, this story does contain 'spanking' in the way of discipline, so if you don't like it, than feel free to skip over this story.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **P.S. I don't own 'Black Butler', sadly ;(**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, A Father's Touch_**

"You have put yourself in a great deal of danger tonight, My Lord."

Ciel could not find the courage within himself to meet his demon's russet eyes, how they glinted and flashed with shrewdness and disapproval, a warning of the doom that would surely be awaiting Ciel once his bath was over. The water that swallowed his body was steaming with warmth, yet still he shivered, goosebumps rising timidly on his soapy skin, a mere reaction to the dread that was accumulating inside him. Still, Ciel had no intention of expressing such obvious weakness, but forced himself to gaze straight ahead, replying to the butler's words with a voice that he did not dare allow waver, inwardly struggling to ignore the ominous, frigid presence that loomed behind him, a cold, silent fury emitting from it in waves.

"Yes, I suppose you could say so. Yet how can I ever be in danger if I always have you to protect me, Sebastian?"

Ciel heard Sebastian sigh exasperatedly and struggled to suppress a shudder as he felt the demon's icy breath quiver over the fronds of slate hair that fell delicately over his neck. Ciel could almost imagine the demon scowling from behind him.

"Even so, Master, I don't believe that it is a habit that should be encouraged. Perhaps you require some form of consequence for your actions, My Lord."

Ciel's eyes burst incredibly wide. He lashed his head around to face the butler, an incredulous gasp fizzling off his tongue. "Pardon?!"

Yet the demon did not speak further, but remained gruellingly quiet, almost unbearably, gently rinsing out the suds of shampoo from Ciel's hair by pouring a small bucket of water over the boy's head. Usually, this notion would be quite soothing for Ciel, but this time, Ciel was far from soothed. Every limb in his body had seized up with tension and despite the water, Ciel could feel every hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Consequences? What consequences? The demon had no right to dish out any consequences! Did he? _Ciel_ was the Master, not Sebastian. He was the only one with the authority to punish, not the other way round!

And yet still, Ciel couldn't rid himself of the horrible gnawing sensation that maybe, just maybe, the demon could...

Once all the soap had been carefully washed off Ciel's body, Sebastian removed the boy from the tub and expertly began to dab a soft, silken towel over the child's face and neck, smoothing the dampness from his shoulders and chest, his back, all the way down to the tips of his toes, making sure to lightly tousle the Earl's hair dry in the process. All the while, as the butler continued his work with the towel, Ciel's mind churned with all the mortifying possibilities of what the demon could do to him. Surely Sebastian did not mean to punish him, did he? A servant taking such liberty to punish the Master? Now that's just unheard of... However, it still ate away at him.

"S-Sebastian?" Ciel muttered nervously, his heart thrumming frantically in his chest, his head dipped low as to not accidentally make eye contact with the butler.

"Yes, My Lord?" came the stony reply, the tone as crisp as ever.

Gnashing his teeth slightly, Ciel continued, trying desperately to reinforce the authority in his voice. "What exactly are you proposing by 'consequences'? I've not heard of any Faustian Contract in which the demon is allowed to impress any kind of 'consequence' on their Master, besides taking the Master's soul of course."

"And exactly how many Faustian Contracts have you heard of, My Lord?" Sebastian countered, and amongst those words, Ciel could instantly recognise the challenge that had been brought to the table, rendering the boy immediately silent. Sebastian swivelled into Ciel's line of vision and the waspish smirk he glimpsed residing on the devil's lips was enough to twist the boy's features into a snarl.

With a soft, dry chuckle bubbling up from behind the butler's tight grin, Sebastian loosely furled the towel around Ciel's petite frame before placing a stern, guiding hand on the boy's shoulder. "Come now, My Lord. Allow me to change you into your night clothes."

With that, Sebastian began to steer the child towards the door, but Ciel almost immediately shoved the demon away, growling indignantly, "I can walk just fine on my own, thank you!"

Huffing, Ciel stomped off to his room, leaving the butler behind in the wake of his agitation, but his annoyance was merely a disguise to conceal how truly flustered he had become. The predicament that he'd managed to get himself ensnared in was growing more and more believable by the second, much to his dismay. It was also growing more unavoidable, which did not help quell his panic in the slightest. And as he eased himself down onto his bed, awaiting his butler's return, he was most furious to find himself starting to tremble.

Sebastian dressed him without a hitch, fastening each button of his night shirt with his unrequited grace and finesse. Yet even so, as Ciel attempted to step away from the demon, with his normal change of sleeping attire draped as it usually was over his nimble figure, without missing even the tiniest of threads to make it incomplete, Sebastian's impeccably strong grip on the boy's arm did not soften in the slightest, but grew tighter, so much so that Ciel couldn't help but flinch. Ciel tried to tug himself free, but to the demon, his futile struggling wasn't even worth a raise of an eyebrow.

"What are you doing, Sebastian?!" Ciel snapped, bristling all over. "Unhand me this instant!"

Sebastian's stoic, aloof expression did not falter, but remained as steely as ever. He yanked the boy closer to him until he managed to curl his long, slender arm around Ciel's meagre torso and pin the child harshly to his own chest. Without any kind of endurance on his part, Sebastian dragged his flailing and writhing Master to the bed, his monotonous voice ringing in Ciel's ears like a death sentence.

"I apologise, My Lord, but I believe that this most undesirable behaviour has gone on for long enough. As the Phantomhive Butler, I can't allow these misgivings to continue, and as the Phantomhive Butler, it is my duty to correct them in the most plausible way that I see fit. Therefore, I have reason to believe that punishment is in order."

Ciel's heart flatlined for several seconds as he felt the arm hooked around his waist twist abruptly and before he could truly process what was happening, he found himself gazing blankly at the floor with his stomach hunched over the demon's thigh and his backside raised high, completely at the mercy of the butler. For a moment, Ciel was immobilised by shock, entirely perplexed about how he'd managed to get himself into such a position. Yet once the moment had passed, Ciel began squirming violently, pushing and shoving against the butler's lap, utterly infuriated that he was being forced to lie in such a vulnerable, disgraceful position. But regardless of how much he struggled, his attempts for escape were completely brutalised by a large, spidery hand sprawled over his back, pressing down upon his shoulder blades, keeping him firmly harnessed to the knee that promised to be the demise of his pride.

"Sebastian, how dare you?!" Ciel yowled savagely, his fists ripping ruthlessly at the butler's velvety, black slacks. "I order you to let me go, _immediately_!"

"Forgive me, My Lord, but I can not do that. Your orders don't apply in matters that go against your protection and wellbeing. For example, if you give me an order that may place you in considerable danger, then I'm not obliged to obey. This is a matter of teaching you the importance of your safety, as you've clearly grown ignorant, therefore overriding all commands and orders that you ask of me."

The words froze within Ciel like ice, sending chills flittering down his spine. However, as he felt one hand draw up the hem of his night shirt, allowing it to pool carelessly around his waist and felt the other hand slip his undergarments down to his ankles, exposing his bare buttocks to the entire expanse of the room, Ciel sucked in a spluttering gasp, heat rushing up his neck and blooming on his cheeks in a rich scarlet tinge of embarrassment.

"Sebastian!" Ciel yelped in a high-pitch, almost hysterical voice, tears of pure humiliation frothing up beneath his eyelids. "I told you to _let me go_! You have no right to humiliate me in this way!"

"On the contrary, My Lord, I do," Sebastian murmured from somewhere above him and Ciel watched with his eyes bulging as an untarnished, ivory glove flopped to the floor right before his line of sight. "Although I assure you, Master, I do not enjoy doing this, but punishment is something that you require, so it must be dealt."

"You _demon_!" Ciel roared gratingly, not having a single care for who might be listening. He wriggled and kicked desperately over the butler's knee, loathing the demon with every fibre in his body, but still his feeble struggling was fruitless. He'd never experienced anything like this before in his entire life. Even his parents hadn't taken the liberty to punish him in this way. And yet here he was, receiving this kind of treatment from Sebastian? He'd rather be buried alive. "You can't do this! I won't allow it! Release me at once! That's an order! An _order_! You have -"

But before Ciel could finish, a sharp, ringing smack shivered throughout the room as a bare hand swooped down on his bare rear, clipping it with a rather harsh swat, causing the last of his words to die almost immediately at the back of his throat. Ciel jolted upwards slightly from the mere shock of being hit so suddenly, a silent gasp slipping free from his agape lips, his gaze fixated on the floor almost disbelievingly. Yet as the second swat followed hastily after the first, the bewildered numbness that had distilled over him quickly shattered as stinging, horrible pain inflicted the sensitive flesh of his backside, leaving marks that were more boastful then his burning magenta cheeks. Ciel gave on last flail, whining and gasping, but as a third biting smack came hurtling down, colliding efficiently with his tender rump, Ciel released an unceremonious whimper, chewing his lip with urgent vigor and grappling the fabric of Sebastian's pants for dear life.

As Sebastian's unmarred swatting danced into some kind of sadistic rhythm, Ciel found his insufferable tears more and more eager to purge their way out of his eyes, growing larger and thicker by the second, almost blinding him with their watery intensity. The pain was smouldering, searing his skin as though it had been set ablaze and melded with the shame of being handled in such a way, bared before the scarlet eyes of his butler, Ciel could hardly contain the sobs that were yearning to come out of him. But he bluntly refused to cry. Crying at such a petty thing was absolutely ridiculous. He'd been sold to a cult for goodness sake! He'd suffered weeks of torture and humiliation far worse then this! A small spanking could not compare to the month of agony and shame that he's been forced to endure. If he started getting mushy now, then how ever did he hope to hold his head high and call himself the Queen's Guard Dog?

Yet even so, as the hand began cracking its way down the back of Ciel's thighs, Ciel could not stand it anymore as a strangled yowl burst remorsefully from his lips, stubborn, unruly tears seeping free and carving their way bitterly down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to beg, to plead for the demon's mercy, but as another blow assaulted his backside, Ciel merely clamped it shut once more with a sob, his entire frame quaking wildly over Sebastian's knee. There was no way he was going to eradicate his pride further by begging the foul devil. He was already pitiful enough as it was.

The spanking just didn't seem to end. It was relentless, harrowing, and Ciel was finding it most difficult to keep his distress at bay. He felt as though his sobs were gradually choking him as he tried unsuccessfully to steady his rapid breathing that was escalating with every heartbeat, worsening to the point that his head began to curdle dizzyingly due to the lack of oxygen travelling to his brain.

However, just as Ciel felt certain that this punishment would last for an eternity, with one final slap across the shamefully uncovered cheek, the hand fell away and instead started to ease calming circles on Ciel's quivering shoulders, the touch first causing the boy to shudder in mild displeasure, but eventually he discovered himself pressing into it, suddenly and embarrassingly hungry for the comfort. Ciel wasn't sure how long he lied limp over Sebastian's lap, but he had a sense it was a while as he battled desperately for some kind of control over himself as he cried and wailed softly against the demon's legs, his vision growing fuzzy and the sounds around him growing distorted as he continued to struggle helplessly against his unsteady breathing. Vaguely, as if from a distance, he could recognise Sebastian's smooth, chocolaty voice gently trying to soothe him.

"Easy, My Lord. You're hyperventilating. Please, try to calm down."

The demon allowed him a few more moments to calm himself until eventually, his tears waned away and Ciel was in nothing more than a feeble state of small sniffles and loud hiccups, the latter causing a new wave of crimson to dust his face. Silently, Sebastian tugged Ciel's undergarments back up to his hips and slid the night shirt back down over his thighs, being cautious to not cause any more irration to the child's raw backside. With a mere whisk of movement, Ciel found himself sitting upright on Sebastian's lap, the sudden pressure on his smarting bottom causing him to jolt slightly. However, as the butler's long, wiry arm curved around Ciel's shoulders and drew his still quivering form consolingly into the demon's vast, solid chest, as though to provide a sense of comfort for the child, Ciel reacted. He snapped backwards like lightning and shoved himself free from Sebastian's grasp with all the strength he could muster in his wobbly state, staggering to his feet in such a fragile manner that it almost could be believable that the most refined of breezes could send him toppling. He recoiled away from the butler, his head stooped low almost submissively, his long locks of charcoal hair acting as a curtain to keep hidden the tear stains and the overall appearance of shame and peevishness raging upon his rouge-coloured face. He was feeling right livid with himself, utterly miffed that he had dropped his guard for just a moment and allowed himself to be consoled by a demon. What was more was that he was feeling equally as foolish, and if he dared to admit, _guilty_ for placing himself in such danger in the first place and then been served punishment like an overly bratty child. No, there was no way he was going to forget such a disgrace for a long time, and for that, he was feeling truly sorry for himself.

With his balled fists, he began to wipe furiously at his drenched cheeks, completely disgusted with the display. "I-If that is all, Sebastian, I-I'd like to go to bed," he spat out as though every word was like bitter salt on his tongue. Even as he spoke, he did not even glance at the butler, too infuriatingly ashamed to look the demon in the eyes.

"Of course," came Sebastian's reply, his voice softly caressing the air in a way that reminded Ciel rather vaguely of his late father, causing a relatively confused swirl to flip in his already semi-knotted stomach.

Ciel observed acutely from the corner of his eye as the butler lightly smoothed the sheets away from the mattress and Ciel did not hesitate to immediately dive into them, easing himself down squarely on his stomach so as not to aggravate his battered bottom any further and submerging his face deep into the depths of his doughy pillow as a way of avoiding looking at Sebastian entirely. He felt warm, gloved hands gently tug the sheets back over his body before they left his presence completely and a question fluttered rather inconspicuously in their absence.

"Will that be all, Master?"

"Y-yes, Sebastian," Ciel mumbled through the stifling fabric of his pillow, but Ciel was certain that Sebastian could hear him none the less. "Now leave me be."

"Yes, My Lord."

With the placid shuffling of footsteps and the unimpressive creak of a door drifting shut, Ciel was alone, and while he was immensely relieved, he was also greatly disquieted as well. While the very thought of seeing the demon again caused the unseemly heat of embarrassment to leak into every section of his burning face, he felt too jittery to be by himself that night. Yet there was no way in hell that he was going to call back Sebastian when he had so hastily sent him away. The events of the evening had left him very much disoriented and he had no intention of facing them once again by inviting the butler to stay and keep guard of his sleep for the remainder of the of the night. So he simply squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that eventually slumber would take him into its uncertain, weary arms and grant him a sleep that would be without unpleasant dreams...

XXX

Meanwhile, Sebastian glided along the shadow-riddled corridors of the mansion, sensing his Master's discomfort like one could scent the acrid stench of smoke in the air. He'd leave the boy to his own devices for some time, and if Ciel had not become soothed enough to slip into a restful sleep, than Sebastian would return with a cup of warm milk combined with honey to steady his nerves.

Sebastian was feeling slightly dubious about the events that had occurred that evening, which was a most perplexing feeling for a demon to have. He felt that his actions had been justified, as the boy was far too heedless when it came to his health and wellbeing. While it was his obligation to save the boy regardless, Sebastian was much disappointed that the child's arrogance had led him to place himself in such unsavoury situations.

No, the boy simply required some guidance, or rather a firm hand to keep him treading along the right path. However, with his parents completely wiped clean off the face of his life, the child had no one but himself to provide such things. And depending on how long this contract would last, which still remained unclear for the time, this boy would not stay a boy forever, but would grow into what he hoped would be a respectable young man befitting of his title as Earl Phantomhive.

Sebastian could feel the new role that he would need to play for the child, and he felt most willing to play it. He sniggered softly in the darkness. This was sure to be interesting.


	2. A Father's Direction P1

**Hey guys!**

 **I know last time I said I didn't have many ideas, but this one sort of jumped out at me unexpectedly and wouldn't leave me alone, so I've been writing like a madman ever since, haha! Since this story turned out to be quite long, I decided to break it into two parts. This part doesn't have any 'spanking' in it, but the next one will. I'm almost finish the second part, so I should hopefully have it posted by some time tomorrow.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **HeartElyse :)**

 **P.S. To all the people who have faved and reviewed, thanks so much!**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, A Father's Direction Part 1_**

Sebastian had grown to the point of insufferable. His wicked, twinkling russet eyes that loomed beneath his pointless, rimless spectacles, matched with his equally taunting smirk was enough to make Ciel feel as though the incurable rage inside him may cause him to explode into a shower of cinders. Ciel's sapphire eye flashed menacingly up at the demon, the violin trembling furiously beneath his fingertips, his lips curling into a savage, gnashing snarl.

"Sebastian, how can you possibly expect me to play this?!"

Sebastian's devilish grin only served to widen. "But My Lord, you haven't even attempted to play the piece yet. My, I'm shocked you would give up so easily."

A low growl rumbled angrily in Ciel's throat as he snapped back sharply, "No, I'm just willing to accept the fact that it's impossible to play!"

"But how, Master, is it impossible to play if numerous musicians have played it before you, and might I be so bold to add, with ease?"

"No, you most certainly can't be so bold," Ciel glowered, pointing the quaking bow of the violin ruthlessly at Sebastian. "I can understand other musicians having the experience to play it, however, I do not, so how can you possibly expect that I could?!"

Sebastian placed two intricately gloved fingers to his lips, shamelessly and unceremoniously hiding the chortle that quavered lightly in his throat. "I had faith that you were more skilled, My Lord. Are you to say that I was wrong?"

The challenge in the demon's humoured tone was so infuriating that it took every fibre of Ciel's composure to not hurtle the violin to the floor. Still, every limb in his body trembled with fury and he could feel a steady burn of anger flushing on his cheeks as he spoke in a somewhat deadly voice, harsh and seething, like a lion cub trying to roar. " _Don't you dare mock me, Sebastian_."

Sebastian's sneering expression appeared to somewhat die with the huff on an exasperated sigh. He levelled a finger to his temple, as though trying to quell an ache that was steadily building inside his skull, despite the fact, to Ciel's unquenchable irritation, that demons could not be ailed by such petty, human inflictions, like headaches.

"Young Master, you have been rather testy today. Is there a reason for your foul mood, or have you just grown accustomed to acting like a child?"

"I am not a child!" Ciel yowled, flinging the bow directly at the demon's head, which was a complete waste of effort, as the butler merely caught it with an impervious curl of his hand, hardly a chore at all. "You are nothing more than a lowly servant! You have no right to address me in such a way!"

"Ah, but as of this moment, I am you tutor, not your butler," Sebastian corrected, his eyes thinning with mild agitation as he pressed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "And as your tutor, it is my duty to correct you in the most sufficient means possible. But as of this morning, my patience with you has been wearing thin. It is not that you are physically inept at playing this piece, it is merely due to the lack of effort that you are applying to your performance, and your most surly attitude this morning is most undesirable. It most certainly explains your poor form."

"I did not ask you for an opinion!" Ciel retorted, his only visible eye a slash of cerulean fury, his booted foot slamming against the carpeted floor like the unruly child he claimed not to be.

"You needn't have to, My Lord," Sebastian answered, his tone as severe as his flaring fuchsia irises. "Shall I repeat myself again? As your -"

"Gah! Just shut up, Sebastian!"

Thundering at the demon, Ciel, with all the might that he could possibly muster in his thin, shuddering arm thrust the violin across the small expanse of the study, where it smacked with an awful clunk against the adjacent wall and practically shattered into two sickly fragments of wood and string, ricocheting to the floor with an equally terrible thump. A ripple of silence flooded the room in the wake of the rattling crash, where both demon and master remained utterly frozen in passing time, the butler the dazzling image of shock, the Earl a wavering statue of indignation. The demon, despite all that had failed to surprise him in his apse of uneventful eternity was thoroughly impressed by the immensity of his Master's spontaneous explosion, however not in a way that pleased him in the slightest. It was rather harrowing to deal with such a proud, impatient snob of a child, with such troublesome defiance that it would cause even a well-able man to throw his hands up in surrender. But that's what he supposed made his Young Master _his_ Young Master.

Speaking of said Master, the boy wracked his fingers with unsavoury ruthlessness through his slate hair before stomping his way passed Sebastian with his shaken voice barking over his shoulder, "Fetch me a carriage, Sebastian. I'm going out."

"And where exactly will we be going, My Lord?" Sebastian questioned, quite intrigued by his Master's vague intentions.

"I am going where I please. You will remain here and await my return."

Sebastian's eyes widened upon the child's receding back. "But, My Lord -!"

With a stiffened flourish of his puny body, Ciel whipped around, turning on his Butler like a hurricane shooting knives, his glare so jarring that if his eye had of been a laser, it would have obliterated steel. " _Don't force me to make that an order!_ "

He then whirled back around and stormed from the room, his heeled boots crunching with great vigour over the splinters of wood still cloying the floor, not even waiting for an answer to his threat.

In spite of his Master's absence however, Sebastian stooped low on one knee, crossed his arm over his chest and dipped his head as a sign of his submission. "Yes, My Lord."

For a moment, Sebastian contemplated his Young Lord's actions as of late. For the passed few days, the boy had been absolutely intolerable, utterly foul in the way in which he conducted himself and positively ill in the means of his temperament. Yet as the demon pondered on it, only one conclusion seemed to be able to explain the said behaviour; his Master was still thoroughly ashamed of the events of the night that had occurred almost several days ago.

Sebastian leered. He had not expected the punishment to sink in so well, however he had not planned for his Master to react like this. It was clear now that his Lord was trying to mend the shreds of his dignity through sudden outbursts and bullheaded stubbornness, which was rather admirable, but still the completely incorrect way of handling the situation. Sebastian didn't even bother to retain his amusement, but allowed it to trickle out of him in a soft, narcissistic laugh.

 _Ah, My Lord_ , he thought fondly to himself. _Perhaps it's time once again to fill that role that you seem so eager for me to play. It's bothersome really. Yet even so, I find myself not minding in the least. How strange._

XXX

Ciel did not hesitate in the least as he haughtily shrugged on his flowing black cloak, swooped his ebony top hat from his Butler's grasp and all but flung himself through the narrow door of the carriage, slamming it crassly behind him before sitting himself down in the most morbid of positions - with his spine as straight as a rod, his back as taut as a board and his thighs bunched as tightly as twisted threads over each other - and walloping the handle of his walking stick upon the roof of the box-shaped compartment, signalling to the chauffeur that he was more than ready to be off. Immediately, the cart sprung forward, and they were on their way, leaving the manor behind in a trail of horse hooves and churning wooden wheels.

Ciel heaved a growl, long and low beneath his breath, dropping his forlorn face into his gloved hands and clawing furiously at his hair with his small, irritably twitching fingers. He felt like killing the Butler. He felt like slaughtering the demon in his sleep. But demons didn't sleep, and the very fact that he was a demon made it all the more hopeless. Still, for a few moments, he allowed himself to indulge in that fantasy, savouring it in his mind, making him feel somewhat lighter, if only for as long as the vision lasted.

Ciel tiresomely raised his head and instead turned it upon the gloomy scenery outside the window, skimming over it with his brooding eye, but hardly taking it into his greatly troubled mind. He laced his arms over his chest, his clutch so tight around it that it constricted his lungs.

Damn him. Damn it all! As if he hadn't had enough fun already; first baring him, then whipping his backside like a mischievous two-year-old, and now he wanted to make a further fool out of him by forcing him to play a piece on the violin that was so renowned for its difficulty that the very probability of him not failing was practically zero to one?! No, Ciel wouldn't have it. He had other, far more important duties to be taking care of than being humiliated by his sadist of a Butler. Mind you, he had no business that he could recall involving London, so why he was exactly going there and what he was exactly intending to do once he got there remained a mystery, even to him. All he was certain of was that he wanted to get away from that demon, regardless of what that entailed.

For an hour, Ciel mulled over his options, considering what activities in town might take his fancy until eventually he ordered the halt of the carriage once they had reached Central London. Sidling out the carriage, Ciel rounded the side of the cart and addressed the coachman with his usual 'no nonsense' demeanour. "Return to this spot at exactly four o'clock -"

However, as a new, more devious idea swept through his mind, Ciel faltered, his words coming to an abrupt stop. He only needed mere heartbeats for the plan to infringe upon his other, far less amusing one, but it was enough time for him to be aware of exactly what he needed to do and he smirked broadly, taking a moment to clear his throat before speaking once again.

"No. Instead return here tomorrow morning at seven o'clock sharp, and don't be late."

"Wait, what?" The driver exclaimed, his thick eyebrows arcing high in utter astonishment.

"Oh, and one more thing," Ciel added, flicking his wrist nonchalantly at the coachman, as though the conversation was already beginning to try his interest. "Don't tell my Butler, alright?"

"But I can't -" yet whatever the driver was going to fretfully blurt out was immediately snuffed by a jingling leather pouch of money landing quite heavily in his lap.

"I see you need some persuasion," Ciel jested, his uncovered eye narrowed critically. "Take this as compensation. However, if I do find that you have spoken to my Butler about any of the arrangements that we have just discussed, than I'll personally have a meeting with your employers and have you fired, is that clear?"

The chauffeur gazed down stunned at the bag of coins for a few more seconds before rearing his head, the most amiable of expressions coating his face. "As clear as day. It's nice doing business with ya, Earl Phan'omhive." With that, the chuffed driver coaxed the horses on again and the carriage rolled away, leaving Ciel in its wake.

The boy sniggered faintly, entirely humoured by how a little canjoling can go an exceedingly far way, especially when money was involved. While that so happened to be all the money Ciel had on him, at the time the factor didn't seem all that significant, and I must repeat, at the time. All that concerned him was the intentions of the night's endeavour; to cause worry to Sebastian during the space of his absence. It seemed to be all he could do to get back at the demon, so do it, he shall.

With a sly grin he began to plod his way down the cobble path, his cloak tossing about him in the Autumn breeze. He'd heard there was a market near by; he was most curious to take a peek...

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. A Father's Direction P2

**Hey guys!**

 **Here is the second part of this story! I'm so glad I finally finished it. Now, there are parts of this story that I'm still a bit uncertain about (my brain was melting while I was trying to write this, as you can understand), but you guys can be the judge of that. Also, I didn't intend to make this too OOC if I did - although I personally believe that all fanfiction is OOC, as no one knows the characters like the creator - however, it is my intention throughout these one-shots for Ciel, as well as Sebastian to progress, and also, if you were feeling as rotten as Ciel and then was getting a spanking at the same time (SPOILER, haha) I think you can understand.**

 **Anyway, just a reply to my lovely reviewer, Hamlet: Thank you so much for all of your reviews so far! I really appreciate them! While the cane is something I have thought of and have not ruled off the list, I think it's the fact that it is such a personal thing - using a hand - that it fits well with the context of the story (in my opinion), and hey, if it makes Ciel squirm all the more, than bonus (Ciel, I'm so sorry)! Although I do have to agree that a cane is probably more suited to Sebastian, so if it just so happens that Ciel requires a certain 'lesson' while Sebastian is playing the role of tutor, than... Your review has made me ponder a bit on this topic and as a result, I'd like to do some more research on it, so thank you! I hope you keep enjoying the story!**

 **By the way, I appreciate everyone's reviews! Your support has been amazing!**

 **Finally, a warning: there is 'spanking' as a means of discipline in this story, so if you don't like this stuff, feel free not to read.**

 **Read and enjoy!**

 **HeartElyse**

XXX

 ** _That Butler, A Father's Direction Part 2_**

The sky hung above like an ominous veil of thick, seething clouds over the horizon, turning the grey masterpiece of London into a dark shade of ashen. The pale light of day was rapidly dwindling, and taking its place was the sweet, earthy stench of rain that clung to the air like a child would to its mother, promising a total drenching. To say that Ciel was beginning to have doubts about his previous decision was an understatement; with every fibre of his spare, petite body, he was hating himself for his utter stupidity.

The feather-light breeze from earlier felt like shards of ice stabbing their way into him now, completely shredding through the fabric of his clothes, plunging their way into his bones, causing shivers to yank him all over. His legs throbbed from walking so long and he was certain he could feel blisters gnarling at the fragile skin of his heels, making him wince and stumble with every step. Without any money to buy food, nor some sort of refreshment, he was utterly famished and parched, although the latter issue wouldn't be so difficult to quell once the rain started; although sticking your tongue out to the sky wasn't the most flattering of gestures and being a noble made it all the more demeaning, when there was no other option, what was one to do?

Ciel was severely regretting his decision now. At the time, it had appeared positively witty and faultless, but now, with that time long since soaked away into the unstoppable vacuum of the day, he felt like a true fool. A bitter laugh could've come bubbling out of his lips if he hadn't been feeling so miserable as a contrast. He hadn't even required Sebastian to make a fool out of him this time; he'd managed to pull the strings himself without even realising it.

It wouldn't have been so unbearable if he still had a few coins at his disposal, but even with that not being a possibility to consider, he was feeling entirely hopeless and at the mercy of his own inadequacy. He despised that feeling.

As he limped on by, winding his way through the forest of commuters that swarmed the streets, Ciel's mind wandered on its own unwarranted legs back to thoughts of home. Sebastian would usually be preparing his dinner by now. Ciel allowed himself to ponder on what the demonic Butler would be concocting for him; perhaps a Coq Au Vin with its meaty, wholesome flavour that melts like butter on your tongue, or a Cassoulet Au Canard with its slivers of duck breast that provided such a rich, succulent taste to the palette, or even a Salade Lyonnaise with its delicate freshness and its pleasantly bitter frisée, and of course - you can't forget the dessert - a Cherry Clafoutis with its creamy custard filling that smothers the mouth with its decadence and its ripe cherries that explode satisfyingly against your teeth. Ciel's stomach moaned in earnest, and if he hadn't of had any dignity to speak of, he would of moaned with it. He placed a weary hand upon his abdomen and grimaced in distain at the savage ache that resided there. Fantasising over Sebastian's cooking was not helping matters in the least, but was making them all the more harder to withstand. His hunger was not a predicament he could address right now, so thinking upon it was no use to anyone; finding a place he could at most, rest his legs for the duration of the evening, let alone sleep was a more productive prospect to set his mind to.

Even so, he could not leave thoughts of the manor alone. What was Sebastian doing right now? Was he prancing about like a frantic mother hen, attempting desperately to search for him (although the vision of such a thing could of caused Ciel to burst out laughing with its idioticy)? Was he even concerned at all, or was he too insensitive to care? Or did Sebastian know exactly where he was, but was eager to watch him suffer a night of starvation and cold, just for good measure? Such a likelihood caused Ciel's insides to rile with agitation, but he supposed it was only fair; after all, he was the one who decided upon placing himself into such a distasteful hell in the first place.

A small, sensible voice inside his head began to inquire if he should call Sebastian, but instantly, he stifled it, utterly disgusted that he would even humour such an idea. No, he would not trample upon his pride any further by crying out for that wretched, unsightly demon. He would survive the night, no matter what it brought and would return home the next morning with his head raised unabashedly high and his will as steely as ever. And that, for the time being at least, was his final decision.

Scrunching his shoulders up slightly and dipping his head a little so as to not draw unnecessary attention towards himself, Ciel strode forward with a new found determination gracing his tread, ignoring the harsh pinching of his boots against his feet as he slinked down the pathways like a night cat trying to remain concealed in the shadows. Yet as an icy droplet of rain slithered underneath the collar of his coat and dribbled down the expanse of his rickety spine, Ciel released a startled gasp, his back arching against the uncomfortable sensation, his shoulders shuddering with displeasure. Yet this fickle, insignificant droplet was rapidly followed by another, and then another, until eventually it was pouring, the rain hammering down as violently as bullets against the earth. The crowd reacted instantaneously, rushing almost fanatically about the place in their desperation to find shelter and Ciel quickly found himself being thrown this way and that by the unrelenting tide of people so eager to find solace from the rain.

Clutching at himself vigorously, Ciel made a dash for it, buffeting forcibly against the unruly sea of striking legs and unbreakable bodies until finally he managed to drag himself out into a neighbouring alley, where he slid down the filthy wall of the adjacent building to his right and curled up into a sodden heap on the pavement beneath him, trying to distill the sudden bout of nausea that had stricken his barren stomach. Now entirely soaked to the bone and frozen to the core, Ciel pressed himself against the frigid bricks behind him as though they might have some comfort to provide him in this freezing, undesirable weather, his frame convulsing with cold, his teeth chattering, his skin wriggling with goosebumps. He spluttered a cough and for a moment, panic gripped him, very much opposed to having an asthma attack in this kind of predicament; while he was partially cured of the disease, after the events during the Case of the Noah's Ark Circus, Ciel was far from enthused at the thought of repeating such a horrid scenario again.

By now, night had swallowed the day, consuming the light with its darkness, leaving only a bitter, unkind blackness behind. The alley in which Ciel had sort refuge was now crawling with phantoms, mere illusions that filled the spaces where light once thrived, as fabricated as air but haunting nonetheless. Ciel cringed away from them, pulling his knees up to his chest and folding his arms securely around them, his heart thrumming madly against his ribcage. Ciel inwardly scolded himself for feeling such nerves, but it seemed somewhat reasonable, as while he had endeavoured along the disquieted streets of London during the night on countless occasions, he had never done it without his Butler, or at least some kind of protection before, and without the Butler, the streets appeared to be more dangerous than they had ever been.

Sighing heavily, Ciel rested his cheek upon the backs of his hands and attempted to relax himself, which was a near impossible task with how much his body was shaking. However, his struggle was thwart by a staggering choir of unsteady footsteps slowly closing in upon him and Ciel jerked his head up, all his limbs locking tightly in grating uncertainty. From the tone of the sound, he could assume that there were only three, possibly drunk men stumbling his way, yet he would feel far more at ease if he could actually see them, but that was a useless hope; he could hardly see his own hands, let alone the faces and whereabouts of those who approached him.

Yet it appeared that his approachers knew exactly where he was for in a matter of seconds, Ciel could practically feel their presence looming above him, combined with such a raw aroma of alcohol that Ciel could have applauded himself for not gagging, and as if to prove his assumption correct, he felt a pointed toe of a boot tap rather clumsily against his shin, as though to make sure that he was actually where they thought he was.

"Ah, looky what we got 'ere," grounded a scaly voice from amidst the shadows. "'e mus' be a Noble's son. See all that bling 'e got on 'im? No toys for a little squirt, I'm afraid, but money for us, yes it is!"

"And what can I do for you, Sir?" Ciel requested with the most unaffected of tones that he could manage, despite his clanging jaw, trying to impress that he was already bored with the dilemma and had no interest in dealing with such lowlife thievery.

"So the little rat does speak?" Another voice spoke, this one gruff and jarring in Ciel's ringing ears.

Ciel chortled laughlessly at that. "A rat, huh? That's rather rich coming from a pack of beggars such as yourselves. Instead of squabbling about the streets and stealing from poor, innocent children that can't fend for themselves, perhaps try getting yourselves some real jobs. I'm certain even I could assist you there. You sound as though you would all make fine labourers. Perhaps infrastructure?" He internally loathed himself for using the 'child' card, but if it inspired the men to leave him be to his misery, than it was a card worth having. In his experience, mocking oneself and flattering the other was a most charming combination when it came down to negotiation, so why not exercise it when he had no other options?

However, he was quick to discover that such a simple tool, on men that he could only conclude were quite pissed, had the entirely opposite effect than what he had been anticipating. Instead of accepting his words as genuine praise, they took them as an insult and before Ciel could truly comprehend the result of his unintended blunder, a fist grappled roughly around the collar of his coat and thrust him upwards from the ground as though his weight could've been equivalent of that of a rag doll. The force sent his shoulders slamming maliciously into the wall behind him, the back of his skull following in immediate pursuit, making him suck in a cry of pain, his head reeling with the impact. After a moment, his senses collected themselves and he became aware of a hot, ragged breath smacking against his cheeks; Ciel's eyes watered as the horrible stench of stale port streamed into his nostrils, causing him to shrink back against the wall, grinding his jittering teeth in revulsion.

"You just don' know when ta shut up, do ya, kid?" Hissed the same slimy, nefarious voice from earlier, his words biting into Ciel's ears, his tone dripping with detestation. Amongst the fronds of darkness that seemed to have its implacable fingers twisted over Ciel's eye, Ciel could just define the qualities of the man keeping him held bound against the wall, his gaunt features angled as sharply as metal blades, with his blanched skin rippled by gruesome scars. So finally, he could put a face to his attackers.

Ciel was backed into a corner, and he did not like the feeling one bit. No, it infuriated him. With almost an animalistic snarl, Ciel began to thrash and flail against the hands that imprisoned him, his voice booming despite his meek, scrawny body. "Get your lowly hands off me, you _bastard_! Do you even know who I am?! I am the Earl Phantomhive! Are you even aware of the magnitude of the insult you offer to the house of my family?! Now release me this _instant_!"

"He's a wild one, ain't he?" cackled a new tone, this voice obviously belonging to the third man, the sound almost mousy, but villainous nonetheless.

"He is," the scoundrel holding him gloated, and from within the shadows, Ciel spine chilled at the sight of that wicked, lustful smile contorting his ugly face. "He'd be fun ta fool aroun' with, yes e' would!"

And just like that, the man's thick, fleshy fingers began to explore around the waistband of Ciel's pants until eventually they fumbled their way beneath it, causing Ciel's eyes to bolt wide, a shocked yelp falling unbidden from his mildly trembling lips. His heart fluttered. His bones froze. His lungs tightened. And his mind careened into a frenzied state of overdrive.

He had two options remaining, two threads to cling onto, but only one he could choose. He could either call for Sebastian and be knocked down a peg or two, or he could allow himself to be groped by these vulgar, loathsome bounders and have his honour thoroughly eradicated in the process. While both were quite undesirable, Ciel decided that the former was the lesser of two evils, as he had no intention of being molested that night and besides, he would at least be able to get out of the rain.

Ciel cracked his lips wide and yowled out the one name that was tied to him like a chain around his neck, the name that for now, was a means to his salvation. "Sebastian!"

As an instant reply to his call, a dark figure dropped into the alley and before Ciel could even blink, the defiling hands upon him were ripped away and Ciel keeled over onto his knees, panting hard, his eyes pressed tightly closed, relief flooding over him in waves.

Three blood-curdling cries, all filtering out in unison caused Ciel to toss up his head, his eyes spreading open just as a weighted thump, damp and sincere sounded out through his ears, signalling the end of it. What his vision did comprehend was a towering form hovering over him, so black against the darkness that it could've been nothing but emptiness itself, with claret irises that glistened so luridly in the shadows that they were almost blinding to Ciel's poor, unadjusted eye. A baritone murmur, as silky as warmed honey fluxed throughout the air, drowning out the fierce pummelling of rain with its copiousness.

"Really, Sir, must you be so trifling? Your little adventure has left me extremely behind schedule. At this rate, dinner shall never be ready, and don't even get me started on dessert."

The mention of dinner caused Ciel's mouth to water quite fervently, but he gulped, turning his ravenous feeling to that of irate annoyance, his eyebrows slashing, his quivering teeth gnashing. "Do you mean to tell me you knew where I was this entire time?!"

From what Ciel could gather through the sounds of shifting clothes and scuffling feet, the demon had knelt down in front of him. "Well, of course. What kind of Butler would I be if I didn't know where my Master was at all times?"

Ciel hissed at the amused smirk he could detect in the Butler's voice. He found none of this laughable in the slightest. However, he did not object as the demon continued to speak, his tone less teasing, but more discontented than anything else.

"Even so, while your performance was most excellent, My Lord, I must insist that we return home. It is way passed your bedtime, and besides, I don't want to risk my Master getting ill."

With that, he scooped up the sopping wet child from the pavement and hoisted him up into his grasp, with one arm secured beneath his knees and the other wound around his shoulders. Ciel was instantly aware of the heat that radiated from the demon and to his shivering, chilled frame, the sensation was heavenly, but he refused to allow himself to be consoled by it and instead retaliated, struggling and writhing in the Butler's hold, pounding his fists wolfishly against Sebastian's chest. "Let me go!"

"I think not, My Lord," Sebastian concluded, completely ignoring the child's feeble attempts for escape. "We can't have you running off again, now can we? Let's just say that we'll be having a little chat once we get home."

XXX

By the time that they arrived back at the mansion, Ciel had almost completely exhausted himself. His incessant shivering, joined with his futile struggling and how late the night had become had gotten Ciel so worked up that he was now entirely limp in his Butler's arms, still unyielding and denying himself the right to snuggle up against the demon's warmth, despite the need being almost encompassing by now, but limp nonetheless. As they reached the double front doors of the building, Sebastian carefully balanced the fatigued child back on his own two feet before leading the boy into the homely interior of the entrance hall where they were inundated by five distraught servants clearly eased by the sight of their Young Master.

"Thank God you're back, Young Master!" Finny cheered, dancing about the place like a chicken with its head cut off.

"We were so worried, yes we were!" Mey-Rin wailed, joining Finny in what appeared to be a rather racy version of the Cha Cha.

"Welcome back, Smile. Says Oscar," Snake mumbled quite moderately as he stood off to the side, observing the other servants with a reserved expression tainting his eyes.

"You were out quite awhile; we thought somethin' might've happened to ya!" Bard exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Tanaka added in his miniature form, his dazed eyes impressing the fact that he had no idea what was going on, but was willing to participate anyway.

"Yes, yes!" Sebastian chided, beginning to shoo the exuberant servants from the room. "That's all very well, but the Young Master is quite exhausted, so please return to the kitchen and begin on dinner preparations immediately. I'll be down with you shortly."

"Yes, Mr Sebastian," came the chorus of voices, with an extra, "Says Emily," from Snake before the servants scampered off down the hallway with Sebastian's eyes trained upon them to make sure they actually were leaving and not attempting to snoop around. Once Sebastian was certain that he and his Young Master was entirely alone, he whirled around to face the boy, who was gripping at his trembling shoulders in the centre of the foyer, his sodden clothes dripping all over the checkered floor.

"Now, My Lord, I believe it's time to have that little 'talk' that I suggested earlier."

Ciel dismissed his Butler's announcement with a flap of his shaky hand, turning his back upon Sebastian and stiffly beginning to make the journey up the vast flight of stairs ahead of him. "Later. First, I'd like a warm bath. To be frank, I'm quite sick of the cold."

Yet he didn't even scale two steps before a hand fastened itself to his wrist, rendering his attempts to walk away completely fruitless. "No," uttered the demon plainly in his ear, his cool breath against the scruff of Ciel's neck causing him to shudder all the more violently. "We will be having this discussion _now_."

And with that, the demon sat himself down upon one of the steps and slung the child over his lap before Ciel could even fully register what was happening. However, as the boy felt his pants being quickly whizzed down his ankles, he choked, feeling abruptly woozy with dejavu. His muscles seized and were bunched together so tautly that he feared that moving might cause them to break. He whipped his head around to gaze upwards into his Butler's face, his eye shimmering with embarrassment.

"Why here?" He mewled, his dithering jaw locked tight. "What if someone comes in here?"

"I would think that should be the least of your concerns, My Lord," Sebastian countered, his piercing eyes flashing like two smouldering shards of steel. "But do not fret, Master. I will at least allow you to uphold some of your dignity by leaving you partially covered, although I doubt it will make much of a difference."

Ciel's mind was wiring. He had not expected to be in such a situation so soon, or ever again, mind you. But now that he was here again, he was required to think hastily. Perhaps negotiation might soften the devil a bit. "S-Sebastian, there's no need to..." Ciel swallowed thickly, utterly ashamed of even speaking the words. "...to spank me. I know exactly what I did wrong."

"Yes," Sebastian agreed, shifting his head to one side, regarding the boy with the most unreadable of expressions. "But you knew what you were doing was wrong before you even began, so what is the difference? You see, to learn your lesson, you must understand the degree of your mistakes so that you can progress and not make those same mistakes again. That is just basic logic, as you should know, Young Master." He paused for a moment, allowing those words to sink in before continuing. "Now, lets say twenty strokes all up; ten for letting your frustration get the best of you and breaking your violin, five for running away, and five more for once again getting yourself into unnecessary danger."

Making a sound that resonated between that of a growl and a whimper, Ciel did not speak another word. He did not even fight, but simply grabbed hold of the demon's ankle, his hands wrinkling the material of the Butler's trousers, his fingers becoming incased in the creases. How the last time's punishment had played out was still fresh in his mind, and Ciel knew that it was a pointless waste of energy to try to protest. Besides, the events of the evening had worn Ciel out so much that struggling sounded more harrowing than actually withstanding the punishment.

As Sebastian reared his hand high, Ciel flinched, cowering against the demon's knees as though trying to shrink himself into a smaller, less manageable size. The first strike cracked down like lightning across the very centre of his backside, causing Ciel to jolt slightly, his spine curving upwards, a tiny cry simmering in his throat, yet never fully leaving his lips. The hand walloped down again and again, flitting all over his buttocks and the backs of his thighs, imprinting vivid red marks on ever sensitive piece of flesh that it could land a blow upon. By smack number five, unquenchable, defiant tears surfaced at the corners of his eyes and Ciel squeezed them shut, pleading for them not to fall.

Smack!

 _Don't fall._

Smack!

 _Don't even dare._

Smack!

 _I won't let -_

Smack!

 _Damn it!_

Ciel could not think of a time where he detested himself more. The tears leaked out, riveting down his cheeks as rigorously as shooting comets and Ciel buried his flushed face deep into the pleats of Sebastian's slacks, utterly distressed and humiliated by his own graceless display of emotion. Yet he could not control himself. The night had taken quite a toll on him, and this was what was left to be reaped as a result. He yearned more than anything to be wrapped up in the comforting blankets of his bed, soothed by the pleasant heat of his room, his body still and no longer aching, his stomach agreeably full and painless. He did not desire to be draped over his Butler's knees, being smacked like an unruly toddler, brutally cold and frigid in his drenched clothes that were clinging to his skin uncomfortably, his gut knotting with pangs of hunger, his body smarting all over. No, this had not been his intention at all; not only had his plan totally failed him in grand style, but he was now paying a mighty price for it as well.

If he'd been regretting his decisions earlier, he certainly despised them now.

By number fifteen, Ciel was counting them down in his head, drawing in strangled breaths through his clenched teeth.

 _Sixteen_. Ciel emitted a small whimper.

 _Seventeen_. Ciel chewed on his tongue to prevent himself from pleading.

 _Eighteen_. Ciel could taste the iron of blood.

 _Nineteen_. Ciel kicked out a leg, trying desperately to find some kind of reprieve from the anguish.

 _Twenty_. Ciel hardly retained the keen that tore so gruellingly at his throat.

And it was over.

"It is done, My Lord."

For a long moment, Ciel did not twitch even an inch, but remained perfectly still, despite his rabid shaking and heaving gasps, hanging over the demon's lap, his face staying tucked into Sebastian's calf, his eyes shut tight, too embarrassed and too pained to move. Ciel recoiled a little as Sebastian's large, spidery hand gently eased itself onto his back and began to rub calming circles over his shoulder blades, but after a few seconds, he accepted the tender touch, not minding it in the least, although he would never admit that openly, regardless of the occasion. The Butler did not speak, which was good, as he was in no mood to endure the demon's taunting at this moment. His pride was battered enough; he did not need someone mocking him as well.

It took a few minutes for Ciel to get a handle of himself - he could not remain hiding on Sebastian's lap all night - and once he had, he did not hesitate to brace his hands upon the demon's thigh and cautiously level himself back onto his own feet. He did not dare look at the Butler, he didn't even take a glance, but instead preoccupied himself with sliding his shorts back up to a decent height on his hips. He mopped up his tear-streaked face on his already sodden coat, his head down, his face concealed once again by his disheveled strands of greyish-blue hair.

He felt almost exactly the same as the last time - ashamed, embarrassed, guilty - and he hated it.

His tiredness appeared to be catching up with him, for he began to teeter as the earth swayed and his vision swam until eventually he toppled over, his knees buckling, collapsing, falling forward into long, elegant arms, Sebastian's arms. He pawed his hands against the demon's torso, trying hopelessly to shove himself free, but he felt too weak and the Butler's arms were too strong.

"Easy now, My Lord," came a soft purr, strangely kind and forgiving upon his sore ears. "You skin it positively frozen. Allow me to draw that bath that you were so eager to have earlier. It would be no good at all if the Young Master were to get sick, now would it?"

"Al-alright," Ciel slurred with great difficulty, allowing his body to do what it so urgently wished to do; to droop against the Butler, gradually shutting down.

Ciel did not struggle when he was lifted once again by the demon, but let himself be carried through the corridors of his mansion, his eyes barely managing to remain open. And as Sebastian held him, Ciel unintentionally huddled against the Butler's warmth, melting into it. Inside he was cursing himself, purely incensed for showing such feebleness in front of the demon, but he hadn't meant to. He was just sick of being cold...

XXX

 **Just a side note: While I was writing about the food, I was actually really hungry, so I apologise if I went a tad overboard there, haha!**


	4. A Father's Remedy

**Hey guys!**

 **Another update for you all! If you thought I was finished, than you were wrong, cause I have plenty more stories up my sleeve for this series!**

 **This is sort of an 'Aftermath' story, I suppose you could say an epilogue to 'A Father's Direction'. There is no 'spanking', just a sick and pondering Ciel.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **Read and Review!**

 **HeartElyse**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, a Father's Remedy_**

After the tremendous rains of the evening, the morning arrived with the dawn sky blistering with pale flaxen light and the grounds glistening with the remnants of the night's misfortune. Sebastian payed it no mind as he ventured down the vast, winding passages of the Phantomhive Manor, wheeling a jangling silver cart ahead of him, ladened high with his Masters favourite treats and Earl Grey Tea. His strides were feather-light upon the carpeted floors, each precise and fluid, like those of an extravagant peacock without the colour or the frills. Despite how present he appeared to be in both body and soul, his mind was absent, adrift, in another place where more pressing thoughts persisted.

He was greatly troubled by the events of the night before, which was unusual, although he could put it down as a part of his aesthetic to be genuinely concerned for such things. After the boy's punishment - which he had justly given - the Earl had appeared to grow so weary that he promptly collapsed, and although the child had seemed quite ravenous, he had been too exhausted to eat. This meant that the boy had not properly eaten since his mid-morning snack yesterday, which had been nothing more than a Strawberry Parfait, accompanied by a soothing milk tea with cream and honey, an unsubstantial meal to say the least. This caused a considerable amount of worry to the Butler. It was extremely rare for his young charge to not eat in such a prolonged space of time, even when he was uncharacteristically tired and forlorn. What was more was that today, the ambience felt wrong. The scent, it was muddled, congested and unruly, which to the demon was a confusing aroma indeed. It grew more apparent the closer he drew to his Master's bed chambers, and Sebastian could only hope that the boy hadn't gotten himself sick over the whole dilemma of yesterday. _Hope_ , what a funny thing for a demon to do.

Reaching the door of his Master's chambers, Sebastian levelled a gloved hand to its polished wood and tentatively rapped his knuckles against it, calling out "Young Master?" despite being perfectly aware that he would get no reply in return. Pondering by the door for a respectful few moments, he eventually hooked his fingers around the brass doorknob and carefully twisted it, allowing himself a chance to peek into the room at a safe vantage point.

The room was shrouded in a timid darkness, disturbed only by the slivers of light that managed to squeeze their way through the minuscule gaps in the curtains, illuminating the bed just barely. Sure enough, the bed was occupied by his Master, who was lying selectively on his stomach for obvious reasons, his measly body smothered by a dense cocoon of blankets, his sleeping face resting sideways against his pillow, turned towards the door, blissful neutral and innocent like any childs. The Butler would have sniggered at the display if the possibility of illness wasn't so dire. Even amidst the shadows, Sebastian could detect the flush of heat that radiated from the boy's doughy cheeks.

Taking the liberty to enter the room at his own accord, Sebastian glided over to the curtains and gripping fistfuls of the silken material, he kindly parted them, allowing the brightness of the morning to gush into the room, painting the the lime-green walls with its splendour.

"Master, it is time for you to wake up."

Sebastian swivelled his head back around just to witness his Master cringe - perhaps due to the sudden abundance of light or the sound of his own soft, cooing voice signalling the beginnings of a new day - and shrink further into the bushy covers of the bed, his face diving into the comforting plush of his pillow, his limbs stiffening upon the mattress. An air of shame wafted from the Earl in waves, and Sebastian smirked as its sugary stench clawed at his nostrils, pleasant, but overwhelming. Ah, so the punishment sunk in quite nicely after all.

Treading over to his Lord's bedside, Sebastian stooped down on one knee and bent forward slightly so that he was relatively even with the boy's height, chuckling lightly at the sight of the child's pink-tipped ears beneath his luscious mane of rumpled slate hair, more believably a result of embarrassment rather than sickness. "Come now, My Lord. It's a glorious day! Surely you don't want to stay in bed all day?"

"Just leave me alone, Sebastian," the bothersome child moaned, his voice tight and muffled in the depths of his pillow, perhaps more muffled than what the pillow actually warranted.

Sebastian's wicked grin only served to widen. _Perhaps a friendly challenge will get the desired effect_. "As Earl Phantomhive, it is your obligation to awake early and start the day with as much grace as you could possibly uphold. Your standards are already dwindling, My Lord. Yesterday's events are proof enough, if you require me to remind you. Do you wish to lower them further?"

Sebastian observed as the boy physically flinched. He knew he'd nipped the bud right at its roots. The child could not refuse a challenge, regardless of its difficulty. The child could not accept defeat, even in those last dying seconds when it was absolutely certain that he was going to lose. His pride would not allow it. Ah, pride, what a foolish, fickle thing it was, so stubborn in its ways, yet so easy to cripple and bend. But without pride, who would his Young Master be?

With a gruff, nasally sigh, Ciel arose from his monstrous pile of bedsheets, his arms straining and shaking beneath him as he braced himself onto his side, not on his back for again, obvious reasons that said person didn't wish to name, tilting his head upwards to face his demon Butler, his mismatched eyes glowering rather pitifully. That was all the opportunity Sebastian needed. Without warning, Sebastian swooped a hand down over Ciel's petite forehead, combing back the inconvenient fringe of his sticky hair as to make contact with the boiling skin beneath. The staggering warmth that the demon could feel palpitating beneath his cool palm confirms his suspicions. His Master was definitely sick.

"Oh my! Perhaps I left you in those wet clothes for a tad too long."

"And who's fault was that?" Ciel croaked testily, his lips curled into a defensive snarl as he threw off the Butler's hand, recovering from his shock of being touched so privately.

Sebastian narrowed his claret eyes critically at his insufferable charge, his features sharpening with shrewdness. "Do forgive me, My Lord, but I do believe it was you who got yourself into the predicament in the first place."

Ciel's snarl deepened, as did the vivid red colour of his cheeks, yet even so, his eyes dipped to the floor, as though counting each noticeable thread that wriggled its way out from the taut bonds of the carpet and Sebastian, to his lewdness, could taste guilt in the air. What a pure, refined flavour it had, so acute and meagre that it was almost cruel.

Straightening up, Sebastian returned back to where he had stationed the trolley and began to pour his Lord's tea, reciting the morning's usual selections like normal.

"This morning's tea is Earl Grey from -"

"Stop, Sebastian."

Sebastian froze, so perplexed by his Master's request that he even halted in the pouring of the tea. Peering over his shoulder, Sebastian watched as the boy hoisted himself up into a sitting position in the bed and he would have laughed at the sight of the boy jolting as a result of his still reasonably sore backside if he had not been so incurably stunned.

"Sir? You can't even stomach the scones?"

"No," came the grunt of a reply as the child squirmed and shifted upon the mattress as he struggled to find a somewhat tolerable position.

"But you have not eaten since yesterday morning, My Lord."

The boy huffed in defeat, flopping back onto his stomach with a feeble cough. "I have no appetite."

Sebastian contemplated this for a moment, replacing the semi-filled teacup back onto the tray. He did not like the idea of his Master's stomach being completely barren while sick; supposedly it only made the affliction far less bearable (he personally didn't know; Human illnesses were still a mystery to him). Perhaps a broth would be more durable than something heavy, like a scone.

"Would a soup be more fitting for the Master's taste?"

"Whatever," grumbled his Lord, the boy's head once again in his pillow.

Sebastian gave a curt bow, murmuring "Very well, yes, My Lord," before taking his leave, bringing the cart with him.

A French-styled Chicken Soup would be most excellent, he decided...

Meanwhile, Ciel was feeling positively wretched. Illness clung to him like a plague, riling his insides, plugging his sinuses, obstructing his breathing, turning his limbs to lead, twisting his mind into a fathomless pit of unruly darkness and mussy thoughts. The warmth was unbearable, sticky and hot like clammy fingers that just refused to let go. The thick mountain of sheets swallowing him only served to make the infliction worse, yet despite all he did to try and paw them away from him, they simply wouldn't budge and Ciel was in no state to press the point. Coughs overtook him and he spluttered into his pillow, his frame convulsing violently, his lungs hacking so severely that he almost believed that they might just come spewing from his mouth.

Awful couldn't even begin to describe how he was feeling at the moment, yet as though his physical ailments weren't enough, emotionally, he was in disarray. To say his pride was in shambles was an understatement; it was in tiny shattered fragments, scattered crassly across the floor and Ciel was feeling too fragile to pick them back up, in case he fell apart too. And what made it even more gruelling was that his humiliation didn't stem from the punishment he had so righteously received, but from the stupidity of his actions that had guided him to such a result. He had thrown a tantrum _like a child_ , and then ran away _like a child_ , and then been thoroughly walloped _like a child_. His behaviour had been unacceptable, completely unbefitting of the Earl Phantomhive, and although he loathed to admit to himself, even amidst the silence of his own mind, he knew he'd deserved ever smack Sebastian had sentenced upon him.

For a moment, Ciel wondered what his parents would think of him if they saw him now, and he shrivelled against the mattress, shoving the unbidden thought away. It was no good to think on such things; it meant nothing now.

Yet even so, in spite all of this, Ciel did not like the punishments one bit. He knew he wasn't supposed to like them, but he particularly despised them. How it made him feel, so vulnerable, so ashamed. It was all too personal, too private, being touched in such a way. How easily it could break him down, as though his emotions were exploding and he had no ability to restrain them. And afterwards, the guilt, the embarrassment, the inadequacy. His spine turned to ice at the memory and he shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut as a barrage against it.

But what disoriented him most was why Sebastian, of all people, was doing this. Why did Sebastian honestly care about his misbehaviour? Why was Sebastian, a creature of Sin, punishing him for his own misdeeds? Did he possibly believe he could fill his father's shoes? How perverse! Ciel attempted to snort into his pillow, but all that was produced was a bitter sneeze. He told himself that he didn't care, but that wasn't completely honest. Whatever that bloody demon was trying to do, he would never be able to even hope to fill his father's shoes; only one man could do that, and he was gone...

XXX

The day was long for both Master and Butler - being sick was tiring enough, and caring for a sick Lord was just as exhausting - but soon it ended. Yet even as the night graced the scene, no reprieve for either party was brought with it. With sickness came the fevered nightmares, their impression so great upon the weakened boy that Sebastian could sense the distress from even the basement of the mansion, so rich in the atmosphere that it dizzied even the demon. Sebastian didn't usually see it fit to disturb his Master's dreams, even his nightmares, unless the boy called for him or he began to scream in his sleep. However, tonight was a different matter. The child was too frail to be decked by such illusions; it would only aggravate his illness further, and possibly his asthma as well.

Wasting no time in scaling the halls to his Master's chambers, Sebastian burst into the room and sure enough, flailing about in the darkness was the boy, thrashing and withering against the mattress, kicking and striking out against invisible hands, dry sobs and fretful whimpers escaping from his trembling lips. It was a pitiful sight indeed, and even the demon felt sympathy for poor, scarred child. Sighing heavily, Sebastian approached the bedside and did the first thing that he deemed appropriate for a situation such as this; he sat himself upon the mattress and picked his Lord up from the tangle of blankets, cradling his overheated, sweat-riddled body in his arms.

Throughout his eternal demon's life, Sebastian had observed many humans comforting their fledglings in this kind of manner, so it seemed only correct for this kind of occasion. Maybe this was a fonder way to play that new role of his. The thought arose a coy grin on his pale face.

The boy stirred in Sebastian's hold, but it appeared his panic had not quite fled him just yet, as immediately, he began to wriggle madly in the demon's grasp, so distraught that he howled, the sound raw, grating in the pleasant quiet, his quivering hands frantically clawing for his pillow, or more correctly, his gun. Upon realising this, the Butler started to shush the fitful child, gently rocking the small human from side to side, loosening his grip in case the boy felt suffocated. "Hush, My Lord, there is no need for your gun. What good would it do you? It was merely a dream, a nightmare. It can not hurt you."

The Earl, for once, heeded his words and grew limp as a result, his chest heaving with harsh breaths, his frame jerking with shivers. He didn't struggle in the demon's clutches. He didn't even order Sebastian to let him go. His fear must have truly fatigued him, for in moments, he'd fallen back asleep, right in his Butler's arms. This frightened the devil.

No, frightened was a little much. Unnerved was more precise.

While the Master the boy had been yesterday was considerably more troublesome, today, the Master the boy had been was too still, too quiet, too pliable. It was bitter sweet really; without the child's stubbornness, the Butler's task were far easier, but at the same time, it was too easy for the Butler's liking. The Earl's challenging personality never failed to mesmerise the demon, and for that he was alway intrigued.

Yet still, for the evening, he would remain by his Master's bedridden side, neither demon nor butler, and hold the boy, even if abuse for such an act was certain to be hurled at him in the morning...


	5. Author's Notes

Hi guys!

This is just an Author's Notes, so I'll probably delete it later.

I just want to apologise for how long it has been taking me to post another chapter. I do have more story ideas in the pipeline that I'm really looking forward to writing. However, lately, I've just been so busy that I haven't had the time, nor the energy to write them. By the end of the day, my creativity is so drained that I just don't have anything left to give to my stories.

Also, keep in mind that this isn't the only story I'm working on. This story was just for my own amusement. I have another story that I am trying to put all of my efforts into, so for the time being, that shall come first.

I promise I'll get back to working on this once I get the time, but for now, please be patient. All I can say is that I am sorry, for you have all been so kind and I feel terrible for leaving you hanging like this.

HeartElyse


	6. A Father's Presence

**Hey guys!**

 **It has been a while! I am super excited to be bringing you another chapter of this story, FINALLY! I know this piece is WAY long, but I hope you guys will see it as an apology for my lack of updates. Thank you all for your patience and your amazing comments! Your support has been great!**

 **Thanks to this chapter, I actually see a plot coming together for this story. So stay tuned, and hopefully I can make something pretty awesome out of this!**

 **Without further ado, please enjoy the story!**

 **P.S. This chapter doesn't contain any "spanking".**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, A Father's Presence_**

Death. It marred everything, like how darkness mars the light. Its stench foiled with iron. Its colour congealed to rusted red. Its sound pitched to screams. Ciel could still hear them, echoing inside his head, rising with anguish, grating with despair. The memories infringed upon his mind, black, cold, empty, lavished with blood and gore. They left him just as black inside, just as cold, just as empty.

Ciel toppled forward upon his bed, plunging face first into the mattress. He was fully clothed and drenched almost head-to-toe in scarlet, but he couldn't care in the least. He was too spent to care. What did it matter if the sheets got soiled too? So much was already ravished by it anyway. What difference would it make?

His skull felt too heavy upon his shoulders, as though it may fall from his neck at any moment. His limbs were boneless, aching, frigid to the core. His eyelids were straining to remain open, and the prospect of slumber was heavenly to his fragile, fatigued self. But even so, Ciel could not sleep. If he did, he would trap himself inside his nightmares, his mind too hazy to stir, yet too riled to be at ease. No, his eyes could not close. He couldn't allow himself to do what he so yearned to do. On nights like these, sleep would never be his friend, and that was something that he could not forget.

Ciel wouldn't say that he was devastated. No, that would be too much. He was used to this feeling. It inflicted him most often. Disappointment. Guilt. Shame. It was how most of these evenings ended. The deed would be done, and he would be left like this - barren, raw, tainted, inexcusably and rightfully so. This was the weight of murder, the immense burden of what killing brought with it. It might of not been his own hand that had provided the final blow, but he did not require his hands to be the killer. All he needed was his words, and his words were deadly enough, for they held the commands that unleashed the beast from its cage, the orders that unlocked the devil from its chains, and the sentence that set the demon free.

And yet, regardless of all of this, he _hated_ this feeling. It drove a dagger into his gut, spreading a pain that no matter how much he tried, he could not quell. It was savage, piercing, mutinous and seemed to only escalate the longer he left the wounds unhealed. But he could not heal them. Nothing could heal them, and he wasn't sure if he wanted them to. Even so, it was the actual duty of killing that he despised so much. It filled him with such self-loathing that he even shook with it. He grappled fistfuls of the blankets beneath him in an attempt to restore order to himself, his fingers clutching so tightly upon it that his nails almost dug through the fabric. Ciel knew that the only person he could blame was himself, but blaming himself was far less easier to bare. So he blamed others instead. And he blamed his Butler most of all.

He killed mercilessly, imperviously, with no emotion, no soul, no heart, but with a callous, devious contempt that only a being such as him could possibly manifest. He did not kill with honour, or pride, or respect, for in his true form, he was a beast, and a beast could not possibly be able to fathom such human things. So many had died under those long, twisted talons of his. So many had perished. Too many. There was no need for that many to die. The boy could only deduce that the demon enjoyed feeling humans shatter beneath his infernal hands. It was disgusting, detestable, horrifying, and it caused Ciel so much rage.

But what caused him so much more rage was something that he didn't want to admit to himself, the truth that he could be far worse than that vulgar, sadistic creature, plainly because every slaughter that unsightly monster committed, he was the one behind the scenes, pulling the strings, the real puppeteer, the king in his own chessboard of life, and Sebastian was his pawn, a pawn that was simply following his orders.

Speaking of the devil, Ciel flinched at the sound of a lock churning and the door creaking open, impulsively shrinking against the mattress as though amidst the swarming sea of darkness that pooled around the room, his body might seep through it and disappear for good. But what a pitiful hope that was. Nothing could pass the eyes of a demon.

Footsteps pattered with the lightness of feathers across the carpeted floor, growing nearer and nearer with each tread until they eventually halted by the side of the bed.

"Young Master?" A silken voice murmured quizzically against Ciel's ear, causing ice to flitter down his spine. "Oh my! I can't leave you like this. Just look at the mess you've made. Come now, My Lord. Perhaps a bath will -"

But as a gloved hand was placed down upon his quivering shoulder, Ciel immediately jerked up, flinging the hand away with a harsh bat of his wrist. He kept his face buried deep into the covers of his bed, too withered by shame to display the stupid tears that bubbled up in his multi-chromatic eyes to the lowly, scornful Butler. Besides, he did not require his sight to sense the demon recoiling in stunned bewilderment.

"Just leave me alone, Sebastian," Ciel snarled, his breathing slightly ragged, his voice shaking.

"But... Young Master..." came the astounded reply in return, but Ciel was having none of that.

"That's an order, Sebastian! Now go away!"

Hesitance hung densely in the air for the tiniest of moments, before a "Yes, My Lord" disturbed the stifling silence, followed by a delicate rustling of fabric upon fabric as the demon whirled around on his heels and sauntered out of the room, closing the door behind him with the finest of clicks.

Once more, Ciel was all by himself, alone with his riotous thoughts and horrific memories, all of which causing him to shudder violently, his teeth chattering, his heart wavering. His pathetic tears frothed all the more and finally, Ciel squeezed his eyes shut, as though hoping to keep them barricaded within. How ridiculous! He was more conscious than anyone that crying would solve nothing; it was a pointless, harrowing task that only served to drain you and make you feel hollow inside. What good could that possibly do?

Although, he wouldn't mind feeling hollow inside. Then he wouldn't feel like this instead; so frail and decrepit that he may just fall apart at the seams.

Had he really sunk so low? Had he truly fallen so deeply into the clutches of that wretched demon? Had he really grown so weak? He had never endured so much shame for his actions, so much guilt, so much pain... But why? He had never before felt such incessant regret for his decisions...until...

His spine froze and a wave of quakes rustled down his shoulders at the thought of the punishments he had been receiving from his Butler. He had tried so earnestly to remove himself of all the memories and all the emotions that had been attached to them, but found after so much exasperation that he could not. They had touched upon such a tender spot inside him that now he could no longer turn away.

Damn, blasted demon. Why was he doing this? What possible benefit could he reap as a result?

He was oh so very tired, and it was catching up to him. He could sense himself dozing, his anguished body melting away into the depths of his mattress, his hold upon gravity slipping, his mind falling. He struggled to stay awake, but even as he fought, he already knew that it was a battle he wouldn't win, and as he faded away, the darkness swam around him, glossed with red, abundant with death, and oh those shrieks, those splitting, gut-wrenching shrieks...even in sleep, they would not leave him alone... Not now... Not ever...

XXX

The morning arrived in a haze of grey, the sky covered by clouds of ash, the rain shimmying down in a constant, unrelenting sheet of vapour. Ciel released a staccato of whimpers as he awoke, his body frozen solid by horror, his mind a circling mass of unbidden images and blood-chilling thoughts, his soul as empty as emptiness itself. And it seemed that his nightmare had not quite been extinguished, for even now, the metallic aroma of blood still muddled his senses, causing his stomach to coil upon itself with nausea, and as he flung open his bleary eyes, he immediately caught sight of the dried russet stain that was splayed out across the bedsheets, protruding from where his body lied upon it. Gingerly, he braced his hands upon the mattress, his arms quaking a little with the exertion as he cautiously thrust himself upwards and eased himself back onto his own feet.

Once standing, he allowed his eyes to trace over his physical state, his nose crinkling and his irises slitting in contempt at what he saw. His once exuberant blue overcoat was now violated by red, with the sleeves stiffened with clotted crimson, the frilled, ivory cuffs completely mucked by gore, and the tails so discoloured that they appeared an almost ugly violet. He turned to the mirror positioned by the corner of the room, and his revulsion only served to intensify. His cheeks were flecked in blood, as were his fingers, however, instead they were almost caked by it. He could also feel the distasteful stickiness of crusted droplets painted upon the base of his neck and chest, as well as along his wrists and around his ankles.

He could not even begin to comprehend why he had been left to sleep in such a repulsive condition. What on earth had Sebastian been...

But then it all came back to him; the demon had not tended to him because he had ordered it. To be precise, he had ordered the loathsome Butler to leave him be.

And he had not returned. It was far passed the acceptable time for Sebastian to come and wake him.

"Sebastian?" Ciel inquired meekly to the air, his wavering legs teetering slightly as he whirled around on the spot, his eyes dashing about the room as though the said Butler might miraculously materialise from out of no where. While this, of course, did not happen, Ciel took into consideration the stray parchment that was folded neatly upon his nightstand, so pale and flimsy against the lurid mahogany wood that it was almost striking.

His curiosity spiking, Ciel hobbled drowsily over to the bedside table, tripping a little on his undone shoelaces in the process, much to his distain, and scooped the paper up in his hands, before unraveling it with his clumsy fingers and beginning to read.

 _'My Lord,_

 _I apologise for not informing you sooner, however, there are some pressing matters that the servants and I must attend to in London. I was going to edify you last night on the excursion, but with you insisting that I leave you be, it is most unfortunate that I've had to express these details in a letter that you may or may not find._

 _Even so, we will most likely not be returning to the manor until late afternoon, so you will need to get by on your own for a while. I'm sure even you can do that._

 _Sebastian Michaelis, Butler of the Phantomhive Estate'_

A gurgling hiss in the back of Ciel's throat escalated to that of a seething, animalistic growl in the space of a mere second. Acting upon his obvious rage, Ciel scrunched the flimsy paper into a wrinkled ball before hurling it across the room, where it bumped against the wall with a wimpish thud. He could not even begin to fathom the profoundness of that crude, wretched demon. How dare he even think it would be agreeable for him to simply depart from the manor without consulting his Master first! That's just preposterous! Utterly unspeakable! Although he didn't want to lay his eyes upon that disgrace of a creature, he did still need...

No! Now that was the truly preposterous part out of all of this. Did he actually need that demon? Don't be absurd! Of course not! He must've honestly been delirious if he'd believed that he actually required that thing.

He did not need anybody. He could manage just fine on his own. He did not require a Butler by his side, or a being that believed it was sensible to pose as a father plainly because...well, Ciel didn't really know why, but that was beside the point. He would show himself capable and make it quite clear that he did not require this specific kind of discipline that Sebastian appeared so eager to give. He was no child, that he was assured of. After all, there was no room for children on his chessboard; only men truly had the ability to play, so how could he be playing if he was no man?

Teaming with a new sense of determination, Ciel crossed the room to the adjoined ensuite, keen to rid himself of the blood and make a start on the new, rather gloomy day ahead of him. He paused for a moment, freezing in his tread as he suddenly realised that he'd didn't have a clue about what his schedule was supposed to be today, however, he almost immediately brushed it off, deciding to follow his own agenda instead of what another had set out for him.

Locking himself in the ensuite, Ciel first turned to the bath, about to fill it to the brim with water, when once again, he abruptly halted, realising that instead of there just being one single faucet, there were two faucets, extending from the porcelain wall like the golden heads of two individual serpents, one with a handle that was dubbed blue, the other with a handle that was dubbed red. His brain wired with confusion. He'd never thought to focus all that much on Sebastian's processes as he ran him his usual evening bath. He knew the water poured from the tap, but which one?...

Ciel agreed upon the blue one, as it appeared the most placid of the two, turning the rigid handle and allowing the water to gush in to the ceramic basin, not forgetting to squeeze the plug into the drain during the process, because he wasn't that stupid. With this issue sorted, Ciel began to undress himself, peeling himself free of his spoiled coat and underclothes, wrestling a little with the fiddly buttons of his shirt and the buckles of his socks before finally he was standing completely bare on the tiled floor, cringing as he concluded just how much crimson had managed to seep through the fabric of his clothing. He also relieved himself of his eye patch, wincing when he felt rather than saw the marks of where the string had rubbed him during his fitful sleep.

With the bath filled to a satisfying height, Ciel turned off the faucet, tentatively peering into the water - which, in his opinion, should have been wafting with steam - before allowing his toes to hesitantly dip inside.

It took every ounce of his control - as well as fervent chewing on his lip - to prevent himself from shrieking.

The water was so icy that his toes practically went numb with just a touch of it. He instantly retracted his foot as though the skin had been set ablaze and tucked it quickly beneath his other toes as he attempted to bring life back into the frozen digits. He gave himself a moment, gasping by the side of the bath, his mind wildly calculating what actions he should take next. Instead of wisely deciding to test out the other faucet to see whether it would provide solace for his predicament or not, he steeled himself, the former thought not even surfacing in his frazzled mind as he reassured himself that he would only require a minute at most to wipe himself down, so when putting the frigid cold water into perspective, it shouldn't be any trouble at all, right?

Gulping in a shaky, nervous breath, Ciel practically leapt into the basin, unable to retain a strangled yelp as his body was submerged in the water, the liquid cold lapping ceaselessly at his naked, sparse sides, licking his flesh with its many frosty tongues. It was as though tiny fragments of icy glass had imbedded themselves into his skin, causing a flame of pain to erupt throughout his entire body. His shoulders immediately began to convulse with tremors, causing the blasted liquid to splash about all the more, much to his displeasure.

It was in that moment that a new problem dawned on Ciel. He didn't have any way of washing himself. No soap bottles lined the edge of the bath, no shampoos, no conditions, for the thought of leaving anything out in the open - even when it was an item used daily - was an offence to the dandy Butler's aesthetic, utterly inhospitable in the rabid demon's opinion. Oh no, you could not leave a single object out of some sort of draw or storage compartment, not for the Master's general convenience. Everything must be stored in places that only the Butler knows about and that the Master has no knowledge. That's how things operated in this household.

Ciel growled, feeling more than foolish. What a complete waste of his time! Of course, he could easily just remove himself from the bathtub to search for the desired products, but that would require him to, as he said, remove himself from the blistering cold bathtub and then replace himself in the blistering cold bathtub once he'd gathered what he needed, ending up spending more time in the blistering cold bathtub than what he'd bargained for. Even now, as he sat, contemplating his dilemma, he was spending more time in the blistering cold bathtub than what he'd bargained for.

Right now, he honestly couldn't care what he was covered in; he just wanted out of this stinking ice pool. To be brutally frank with himself, he was more likely to retract pneumonia from this little venture than actually get himself properly clean, as with all dignity aside, he truly had no idea how to correctly clean himself, and that truth was shameful enough.

Making his mind up, Ciel heaved himself to his feet before stepping out onto the ground mat that was draped over the tiles like a security blanket, and snatched for one of the white towels that was, thankfully, hanging from one of the bronze racks protruding from the wall. Furling himself in the woollen material, Ciel shivered vigorously, his teeth chattering, goosebumps rising upon his arms and legs as an overall expression of his discomfort. He did not unscrew the plug from the drain, too weary of dousing his already frozen fingers back into the water again. That he would leave for Sebastian to take care of once he returned.

Ciel wasn't sure how long exactly he remained shrivelled up in the towel, but eventually, once he felt dry enough - although his low, bodily temperature had not uplifted in the least - he exited the bathroom and instead, with the towel still tugged around him like on oversized rug, entered his dressing room where he raided the cabinets for suitable clothes. He rummaged through draws and jostled about coat-hangers, tossing unfortunate garments across the vast space of the room in his search to find something that just might be appropriate for a day such as this.

He settled for a Harris Tweed suit, with elaborate pleats slashing down the side and extravagant gold buttons adorning the cuffs and breast pocket, combining it with a teal pair of shorts that at the time, appeared to compliment each other. However, actually deciding on the clothes was the simplest part; actually putting on the clothes was the real battle.

He was stumped almost immediately by the buttons of his pale cream undershirt, redoing the arrangement for what seemed like a hundred times until eventually, the shirt was secured in a bearable fashion, with most buttons finding the right holes, except for a few, who had clasped themselves to the wrong holes or had just not found any holes at all. Next was the shorts, where he somehow managed to trip over them several times before actually raising them to a reasonable height around his waist, then came the difficulty of buckling them up, for they too had ridiculously small buttons that somehow seemed destined to never fit in their own partnered holes, or at least, in his perspective. Don't even get started on the socks or the boots; if he hadn't been so bullheaded, he might've agreed to bother with neither all together. Putting on the suit was the simplest task of them all, and even then he somehow managed to get the sleeves twisted.

Finally, once he could say that he was reasonably clothed - although doubtfully nonetheless - he gave himself a once over again in the mirror and scowled deeply at the sight, coming to the conclusion that he was no better off then he was earlier. Despite his attire, his body was still adorned with splatters of red blood, now brittle and cracked with staleness. Mind you, his general stench was pretty terrible, for not only the scent of blood could be detected from his musty skin, but also the earthy, unbecoming scents of sweat and grime, and that tiny frolic in the bathtub had not aided matters in the least. To be quite crass, in spite of his relatively unmarked clothing, his appearance had not improved in the least. His actual clothing was entirely uncoordinated, with his shirt untucked, his boots laced up sloppily, his neck tie left undone, and his collar askew. It was unbefitting of an Earl of his status, utterly graceless, yet without Sebastian's assistance, he had no way of mending the issue.

And he did not need to. He could go on just fine like this.

With that settled, he took his leave, sidling his way out of his bedroom and starting his long endeavour down the barren, lifeless corridors to the kitchen, suddenly aware of how hollow he was feeling inside. He had not eaten very much at all the night before, for he had been too stricken by emotions to do so, but that was something that he'd rather not think about...

As he walked, Ciel pondered what he should make himself for breakfast. Combing his fingers over his chin in concentration, he weighed up his options. Perhaps a scone would be manageable enough. Of course, he wasn't too familiar with how to make one. However, he did remember occasionally coming down to the kitchen when he was younger to watch Tanaka prepare the morning tea and scones, so if Tanaka could do it, than how difficult could it truly be?

Traipsing into the kitchen, Ciel instantly began to gather all of the utensils and ingredients he would need. He assumed he would require a bowl, a wooden spoon, a rolling pin...and for ingredients, he supposed he would need the basics, like eggs, flour, milk and butter. With all the ingredients handy, Ciel practically began to dump them into the bowl, not even bothering to measure them - for he didn't know how - but simply eyed them, thinking it logical to put an equal amount of each ingredient into the bowl. Then it came down to the most efficient way to combine them; distinctly, he remembered Tanaka using his fingers to combine the ingredients, but by giving a timid glare to the bowl, Ciel immediately decided against it. Dirtying his hands in such a way was positively foul.

Voting that a spoon would be a far better option for the task at hand, Ciel began to stir the ingredients together, observing with a rather unpleasant sense of foreboding as the substances spoiled from a semi-solid mass into a soggy liquid, matching the consistency of murky water. Should it really be this runny? And how on earth did he plan to knead this into some kind of sustainable dough?

Completely oblivious to the fact that bowl was gradually creeping nearer and nearer to the edge of the bench top, the inevitable happened; the bowl unceremoniously launched itself from the counter and clattered to the floor with a boastful thud of metal against tile, causing the slimy contents of it to go flying across the ground, covering as much space as it could possibly reach. Ciel's bones locked together, his limbs freezing as a gush of shock doused him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His brain raced with what to do, a flustered panic hurriedly replacing his surprise, sending an annoying heat blossoming upon his gaunt cheeks.

His first thought was to clean up the mess, to which he immediately complied, spinning on his heels, about to make a beeline for the sink. Yet as Ciel did this, his boots skidded rather dangerously across the batter-roiled floors and with his balance evading him, the next inevitable event of the morning happened.

He fell, his ankle twisting massively in the wrong direction as he pitched forward, his temple colliding with the corner of the bench before he became nothing more than a flaccid heap on the ivory floor, not even consciously aware of the jagged agony engrossing his entire ankle or the syrupy batter now covering the entirety of his twig-like frame. Dark spots obscured his vision and before he could even dare to blink, the inky blackness had completely engulfed him...

XXX

"...ster?... Master?... Young Master?... Young Master?!"

A voice. Distant, yet incessant in its stirrings as it struck out against the painless quiet that had distilled over Ciel's motionless mind. It called gently, yet urgently for his arousal, inflicting great anguish upon his already aggrieved skull. Ciel willed the voice away, as though willing was all it took to enforce its silence. Yet wilfullness served nothing but to evoke it further, coaxing it onwards into a relentless encore of "Young Master?" over and over and over again, until Ciel felt condemned with the certainty that his very eardrums might shatter.

Moaning in remorse for the silence that he could no longer claim as his, he unfurled his bleary eye from the darkness that he had been so fond of, and flinched most violently at the garish light that immediately pressed itself upon his vision, rendering him blind for several enduring seconds. In response to the impending brightness, Ciel withered most eagerly against the cold tiles that he appeared to be lying on, drawing himself closer to them, as though they may provide some kind of consolation to his aching and smarting body. And yet they provided no such thing, for whatever wishes of comfort that he had once had were instantly thwarted by the sensation of something incredibly nefarious and unyielding congealing over the whole length of his body, making shivers of disgust gush down his spine.

"That's it, my Lord," expressed the voice again, this time nearer, and yet more distressing to endure. "Please stay awake for me, now."

Blinking his eyes to stimulate life into the viscid lids, Ciel could just interpret an impressionable figure kneeling most tenaciously by his side, dusky and unflappable in its persistence, a concoction of sullen ebonies and waxy ivories in his muzzy sight. Fluttering his eyes again, he could just depict two slitted, crimson irises, glistening like oozing droplets of freshly spilt blood against a canvas of white, and he knew, without truly needing to think, who those eyes belonged to.

"Seb-Sebastian?" Ciel croaked, his tone livid with the hours that had passed without use.

The demon's smirk managed to penetrate Ciel's scrambled vision, for it slashed across the Butler's lips at such a profound angle that the prospect of missing it was utterly impossible.

"Very good, Master," the man simpered, a murmur of humour etching its way into his brassy octaves. "It appears that you've been having far too much fun for your own good, my Lord. I am most terribly sorry for leaving you alone for such a time. I have made a poor judgment on your capabilities and for that, I kindly ask for your forgiveness."

Ciel's gaze remained blank for a moment, his eye fixated upon the Butler in pure wonder of what the demon was even talking about. The muddle of thoughts plaguing his mind couldn't possibly be fathomed. His memories distorted like ripples upon a vast, unattainable ocean, spinning and correlating until he was sure his reeling might just toss him back downwards into the bout of darkness that he had just mournfully unravelled himself from.

Unravelled?... A letter...unravelling in his grasp... Those eyes...red...like blood...like the blood that encrusted his skin... Something nefarious...unyielding...congealing on his body...splattering across the floor... Scone batter?... The darkness...the haze...his temple striking metal...sending him falling...falling?...falling!

In an instant, the fog that had infringed itself upon his brain receded and in a surge, recollection came welling up from its tremendous depths, bringing with it rivers of agitation that had been brimming on the edges of his conscience, waiting most impatiently to burst. With a gnashing snarl, Ciel reared himself upwards from the fronds of sticky batter that were glooped in sickening puddles across the checkered floor. However, his endeavour to stand was immediately ruined most spectacularly by all-consuming pain shooting so heinously throughout the entirety of his skull that he feared that the fragile cartridge would almost split in two as a result of the impact, and combined with the seething fire shredding ruthlessly at his ankle, he sank most regretfully back down to the floor, whimpering all the way.

Clearly disturbed by his excruciated cries, Ciel cringed a little in unease at the feeling of Sebastian's hand smoothing assuringly over his shoulder, the contact agreeable and generous, much to his vexation and chagrin. He would have denied himself right to it if the afflictions he was experiencing weren't so impossible to bear. He did not require the devil's compassion, nor its sympathy. He did not require anyone at all. Love and affection were nothing more than fickle illusions, stupid and pointless. Yet if that is what he truly believed, than why in his heart, in a place he had been certain he'd snuffed out so long ago, did he crave for those things so badly?

He was extracting from his ponderings by the demon's consoling voice, attempting to steady him with its mildly cooing baritone, despite how it served to only unsettle him all the more. "Easy now, my Lord. It would seem that you've had quite a nasty hit to the head, not to mention, your ankle is badly sprained."

"Let me go!" Ciel yelped most insistently, the restless, undeniable feelings that were ailing him only serving to frighten him, and shamefully so. There was no hope for him. He of all people should know that. His parents were dead, gone. So why was his heart still yearning for something that he could never hope to have again? Why was his heart still searching for love?

Incensed by the confusing labyrinth of emotions that were knotting inside him, Ciel lashed out at his Butler, his tongue flying with cursed. "Damn you, blasted, wretched -"

"Now, now," Sebastian hummed delicately into Ciel's ear, and Ciel roiled in fury as he glimpsed amusement flaring in the demon's slanted eyes, much too parallel to his father's expression when laughter would simmer just beneath the fine barriers of his control. "There is no need for that, Young Master. Perhaps a bath should serve to calm you, and maybe a nice warm cup of tea as well, hmm?"

With that, Ciel could not retain a gasp as he felt long, broad arms scrupulously curl their way around Ciel's decrepit form - one tucking firmly beneath his knees and the other securing carefully around his torso - and hoist him upwards against a vast, hospitable chest, a perfect place for his head to loll without strain or anguish. However, Ciel did not accept this comfort without retaliation, regardless of how much his body irked for him to do so.

"Put me down, Sebastian!" Ciel growled, engaging the assault with feeble flails and pitiful writhing, ineffective, but unrequited, even as tears sprung to his eyes in consequence of the jerky movements he was inflicting upon his body, causing senseless agony to explode in his ankle.

His actions conjured nothing more but a mere shake of a head from Sebastian as he began the journey out of the kitchen and up into the meandering corridors of the mansion, address Ciel in a mellow tone, as though he was aware that any tone more boastful would cause immense grief to Ciel's throbbing brain.

"Come now, my Lord. Surely you can't be comfortable? And besides, I can't leave you in such a foul state. It would be an insult to your status as Earl Phantomhive and goes completely against my aesthetic as a Butler."

Ciel did not desire to heed Sebastian's words, however, he was also too stricken by pain to continue struggling, so he succumbed, falling victim to the demon's embrace. He lied his head upon the Butler's shoulder, nauseated by wooziness, gluing his eye shut to chase away the tears that had been building at the corners. He felt positively horrid, coated from head to toe in muck and grime, and yearned more than anything to be rid of the sensation, but he did not wish to face his embarrassing emotions, emotions that he should not have, emotions that should not even exist. He could not stand them, yet he would simply have to, for there was no escape, no matter how much he tried to find one.

Entering the bathroom, Ciel did not open his eye, even as he felt himself being deposited on the floor with his back positioned snugly against the tiled wall and heard the sound of water sloshing against porcelain. The tears had long since faded, so that was not the reason that he left them closed. He left them closed for he felt that if he could not see Sebastian with his own eyes, than he was some how hiding from the devil himself. Ridiculous, he knew, but he could not bear to see the demon right now, no matter if the said demon could see him or not.

The placid scents of vanilla and rosemary danced about the small chamber, clearly infusing with the steam that Ciel could now feel impressing upon his frigid cheeks, providing slight relief and calm to his distressed mind. The faucets abruptly silenced and stillness induced the room, before docile, goading hands began to peel away all the many disheveled articles of clothing that he had slaved so tiresomely over that morning to put on, not that he could find it within him to care. They were utterly defiled now. What was the point of wearing them any longer?

"Are you alright, my Lord?" Spoke Sebastian's perturbed voice, the sound caressing the dewy air so moderately that Ciel almost felt obliged to speak of what was truly on his mind. Yet he did not cave to the urge, but very lightly nodded his head, suffering grand pain in doing so.

This unjust confession appeared to quell whatever concerns the Butler may have had, for he did not speak again, but instead removed everything from Ciel, eyepatch included, until he was stripped nude upon the bathroom floor. Ciel grimaced as arm's once again took their hold upon him and gradually reverted him from the floor to the bathtub, where he was placed most graciously, warm, marvellous water billowing around him, liquid silk against filth-riddled skin, easing him with its many pleasantries and comforts.

Sebastian immediately got to work on washing him down, his hands feather-light upon him as he used a sponge to rub his body into a complete lather, rinsing away the remnants of the past two days with a mere concoction of soap and water. If only his emotions could be rinsed away that simply. He tried to imagine it, his feelings being rinsed away with all the grot that had managed to stain him, but it wasn't so easy. Letting go was never that easy.

For the tiniest of moments, he dared a glance at his Butler, his eyes cracking open for the slightest of fractions, only to close seconds after, unbidden questions surfacing in his mind, arising to the very tip of his tongue, but never being uttered, out of cowardice than anything else.

 _Why?... Why are you doing this? What is you reason? What is your motive? What are you trying to achieve? Or are you simply toying with me? Playing with my emotions simply because you can? Do you not know that you stand no chance of replacing him? Or do you already know, but you don't care anyway, because you know how much it hurts me?..._

Ciel did not realise he was dozing off, not even as Sebastian's voice spoke for the last time, guiding him softly into troubled slumber.

"Sleep now, Master. You have had a long day..."

XXX

 **P.S.S. Just so you are aware, I know that's not how you make scones, and Ciel's way of doing it certainly is not it, but our dear Earl doesn't need to know that, haha.**


	7. A Father's Correction P1

**Hey guys!**

 **This is another chapter for you. It was getting so long that I had to split it into two parts. I'm really struggling to write the next part, but I shall do my best. This part doesn't have any spanking in it, but the next part will. Also, because of the slight gore at the beginning of this chapter - you'll see what I mean shortly - I'm going to raise this story up to T. I think the way this story was going, it was inevitable anyway, but I plan not to raise the rating any higher than that.**

 **Anyway, thank you all so much for your reviews and your favs! They give me so much joy to see!**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **HeartElyse**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, A Father's Correction Part 1_**

The fog hovered like dense, greying smoke amidst the unnerving silence, depraved and wicked, with its many implacable tendrils binding their way around Ciel, drawing him in. Among the haze was a figure of heavenly light, its immaculate features making the tiniest of imperfections appear warped and insignificant. It stood towering and sparse, an imposing form to many, but one Ciel could never hope to possibly fear. It held jagged golden eyes, piercing to those that it wished to pierce, and yet equally as comforting to those that it wished to comfort. Glossy slate locks framed its narrow cheekbones, possessing a messy sophistication to them. And finally, on the left of its face was puckered a single mole infringing upon the edge of its eyelashes, a refined detail that only served to coincide with the being's vanity, a defining characteristic that no one could possibly dare to miss.

Ciel didn't breathe. He _couldn't_ breathe. Shock had frozen his lungs, and despite all of his might, he could not dispel the chill from within them.

"...Father?..."

The figure's lips curled upwards into an affectionate smile, its magnificent eyes gleaming with retained glee.

"It has been a while...my son..."

Ciel's heart seized. He felt his blood freezing, turning rapidly cold in his veins. He shivered, his eyes not daring to blink, but staring onwards, observing every nook and crevice of the man who loomed so near, so unbearably close. He was so familiar, so fond in Ciel's memories, like the back of Ciel's hand. Every detail was so painfully recognisable, so excruciatingly obvious in Ciel's mind. And yet he was so close to Ciel, just an arm's length away.

His heart yearned for the man's touch, desired so grievously for the man's affections. He had been deprived for too long; too long had he spent craving for such comforts. It should have irked him, submitting to such petty weaknesses, and yet it did not. It could not. For nothing could perturb him from his longings, not now when he was so near.

He could so easily reach out his hand, and...

No! Something snapped, a tight coil within Ciel suddenly unravelling as sense flawed him, gushing reason so gruellingly back into him. The small hand that had been so close to brushing against the figures pastel skin abruptly retracted, recoiling in a harsh fist upon Ciel's chest as though the fingers had been scorched.

"No!" Ciel snarled through gritted teeth, violent tremors jerking his frame. "My father's dead! He's gone!"

A ripple passed over the being of Vincent Phantomhive, one livid with shock, which quelled away into that of dejected resentment. The vivacious eyes darkened, narrowing. The lips drooped, thinning. And an unshakable chill seeped out from the figure, turning Ciel's flesh to ice.

"But...I thought you wanted me, my son..."

Ciel vigorously tossed his head, his eyes squeezing shut as insufferable tears frothed within them. But as he dared them open once more, his heart flatlined all together.

The figure that had once been dubbed as Vincent Phantomhive was now a canvas of gore, his eyes spilling with blood, his mouth bubbling with red. His chest was nothing more than a gaping maw, the innards displayed for all eyes to see. And what only served to make this garish image all the more horrifying was how the figures decrepit arms wavered towards Ciel, its mangled fingers groping earnestly at Ciel's smooth cheeks as a broken, spluttering voice came spewing out from its shredded lips, sobs of agony flooding the silence most distressingly.

"Don't you miss me, Ciel?"

Ciel was jolted so savagely awake that he tumbled from his bed in a heap of entangled limbs, a gut-wrenching scream just barely on the edge of his tongue, urgently trying to escape. He landed upon his back on the carpeted floor, the impact sending a stream of oxygen pouring from his lungs, leaving his chest dreadfully barren, much to his panic. He flailed helplessly in the darkness, unable to rid himself of the steely threads of fog still winding around him, keeping his soul ensnared in his terrors. Fleeing seemed all that could relieve him. Running away seemed all that could free him.

And yet, from what?

Ciel faltered at this, his gaze sprinting manically about the room to find it as placid as it always was underneath the night's veil, frigid in the earlier frosts of Autumn, illuminated by the tiniest fronds of moonlight creeping through the small creases in the silken curtains that hung tranquilly over the lofty windows. Among the pale darkness, Ciel could just make out the shapes of his vast bed and the mahogany furniture within the room, blanched and glistening against the cool light. Whatever illusion of fog that Ciel had once felt swallowing him was murdered in an instant, for this obscure fog was no where to be seen, but had perished with the last petrifying frays of his dream.

It had only been a dream... He was safe... He had nothing to fear...

For several minutes, Ciel didn't dare to move. He simply remained sprawled on the floor, shudders tearing through his body, rasping breaths heaving down his throat, the all-consuming urge to shriek gradually simpering away. His brain swum with memories, memories that stiffened his blood and made his stomach curdle. Ciel pressed his eyelids closed, as though doing so might distill the visions seething inside, but they appeared to only roil further, striking out at his senses, ripping his nerves to pieces.

It was on these nights that Ciel could not bring himself the courage to be Earl Phantomhive anymore. In his chambers, alone, with the eyes of the world no longer scorning him, the facade would disintegrate into a million tiny shards at his feet, as useless and shattered as he felt inside. He was nothing more than a thirteen-year-old boy, vulnerable, weak, breaking apart at the seams. He despised feeling this way, but there was no hope of removing himself of it. It just was, and that was something that he was obliged to accept, regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

For a moment, he wondered if he should call for Sebastian. Yet as soon as the thought arose, he ruthlessly shoved it back down. Sebastian was the last person he wanted to see now. His appearance...was too alike...

His spine gave a fierce quake at the thought.

Releasing a wavering sigh, Ciel tentatively peeled himself from the floor, his arms and legs shaking as he did so. Situating himself wearily upon his bed once more, he did not cover himself again with his duvet, but left it bunched at his side, wishing for the cold of the evening to keep him shivering the rest of the night away. He did not want to fall back asleep. For if he did, he knew his nightmares would only return, haunting him forevermore...

XXX

Ciel watched with great enthusiasm as the many hours of night gradually trickled away and were eventually replaced by dawn. The usual bustle of the morning's tasks could be heard slowly stirring from below, the kitchen most likely, as the muffled sound of tinkering glass, followed immediately by a wave of panicked shrieks reached Ciel's ears. Ciel huffed in exasperation as he sat reclining against his pillows, utterly exhausted of waiting for the day to begin. With no sleep to boast of, Ciel now felt flustered with tiredness.

He could just tell without truly knowing that this wasn't going to be a good day...

The delicate patter of footsteps outside his chamber door alerted Ciel to Sebastian's arrival. Instantly, Ciel shrunk back downwards into the covers of his bed and rolled over so that he was facing away from the door, shutting his eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep. Ciel's ears perked to the sound of Sebastian entering the room, a door swishing as it was unhinged, a trolley rattling as it was steered forward, and Ciel listened carefully to the movements that followed suit, habits of the Butler that even he knew off by heart. Footfalls glided from one side of the room to the other, a feathery pattern of treads that could only be compared to that of a magnificent dance. Fabric buffeted as curtains were thrown aside, allowing the striking ambience of the day to come streaming into the room. And to top it all off, a courteous "Good morning, my Lord," seeped through the fragile silence, its rich, velvety tones signalling the end of another nightfall.

Yet Ciel did not even flinch upon hearing the demon's voice, but remained faultlessly still, wishing to be in peace for just a bit longer...neither did he want to see Sebastian so soon...

However, the Butler was insistent, for in the space of nothing more than two steps, Ciel could feel Sebastian's presence by his side, an impressive shadow that marred the light penetrating his closed eyelids, with breath so icy upon his neck that it was impossible to restrain the urge to shiver. _Damn him_ , Ciel growled to himself as Sebastian's devious chuckling tickled faintly against the shell of his ear.

"While I would usually tolerate your games, Master, today we simply do not have the time to be feigning sleep."

A hiss gurgled within Ciel's throat as he willed himself to move, scowling as he blearily unfurled himself from his bedsheets and arose once more to rest back against his pillows. "And why not?"

The Butler straightened himself from where he had been kneeling by Ciel's side, smoothing his limbs neatly back into order as the most insufferable of smirks splayed wide upon his sharp lips.

"Because, my Lord, the Marchioness Midford, with her daughter, Lady Elizabeth, are here to see you."

Ciel felt his stomach jolt, his eyes bulging as he gazed upon his Butler, a trill of mortification exploding inside him.

"What?!" He exclaimed, words spluttering out of him in erratic torrents. "But we haven't prepared for her! The Mansion isn't clean!"

"My Lord, do forgive me, but the house was only thoroughly primed two days -"

"Not to her standards!" Ciel reproached aggressively, snarling in irritation as he flung the blankets off his body and launched himself from the mattress. "The nerve of her! What possessed her to arrive at such an early time?! And without notice?! Honestly!"

Ciel began to pace about the large confinements of the room, in a fit of pure outrage, his shoulders bunched, his arms crossed, his fists balled, his feet pummelling against the carpet, his entire frame quaking. He was certain he would have continued pacing for hours on end if Sebastian hadn't attempted to ease him through his touch, his spidery fingers reaching forward to grasp a steadying hold on his shoulder, to which Ciel immediately recoiled, reverting several steps backwards, not wishing to be touched by anyone, especially by Sebastian.

"My Lord?"

Ciel did not respond to the question, nor the slight inkling of artificial concern in the Butler's octaves, but bowed his head, suddenly unable to coax himself into meeting the demon's eyes, for reasons that unsettled him to the core.

"We cannot refuse her, Sebastian. Forget the tea. Just get me dressed."

XXX

Within ten minutes, Ciel exited his chambers, marginally disheveled, with his collar askew and his unruly hair in slight disarray, but looking presentable nonetheless. He powered down the corridors, trying not to stumble in his haste, with Sebastian hovering by his side like a shadow. He felt remorseful for skipping his tea, for it always served to perk him up on mornings when he had not slept, and without it, he felt more sluggish than ever.

Ciel arrived at the drawing room and internally groaned at what he discovered within. He had hoped that Sebastian had been merely kidding. But situated in the centre of the room was the Marchioness Milford, or rather Aunt Francis, standing in all her grandeur, her features as angular and severe as ever in the morning light. Sitting on one of the leather couches was Lady Elizabeth, who immediately straightened in her seat at the sight of Ciel, as though trying desperately to refrain from leaping off the couch and dashing to him, most likely due to her mother's harsh eyes upon her.

Ciel forced an agreeable smile for the two, as though happy for their presence, despite how on the inside, he was still seething.

"Ah, Marchioness Midford, what a pleasant surprise," he exclaimed, evoking as much charm as he could possibly manage into his bedraggled voice. "I was not expecting you today."

Aunt Francis wrinkled her nose the tiniest bit, otherwise her composure did not waver in the least. "Does your Butler not know how to groom you properly, Earl Phantomhive?" She abruptly inquired, astonishing both Ciel and Sebastian in equal measure. "You look wretched, as though you've just fallen out of bed."

 _Well, that is true,_ Ciel grumbled to himself and was forced to swallow a sneer.

"And speaking of your Butler," Aunt Francis went on, rounding on Sebastian with all of her rigour. "He has looks most indecent for a gentleman of his status to possess, as I have stated numerous times before. It irks me every time I am forced to look at him."

Sebastian took her assault with nothing more than a nervous laugh, a little perturbed as he dips his head, apologising. "I am sorry if my appearance displeases you, Marchioness."

Aunt Francis simply responded with a seasoned flick of her wrist, apologies clearly not enough to sustain her, much to Ciel's annoyance. "While I can ignore your inadequacy for now, Butler, I cannot ignore other inadequacies of this household that we must discuss."

Ciel almost felt like asking what inadequacies she was implying, but decided that if she was going to speak of those later, he might as well save himself the grief of hearing them too soon.

At this moment, and to Ciel's immense relief, Elizabeth finally arose from the couch, acting dainty in the midst of her mother as she stood upon her sandalled feet, ogling discontentedly at the lady who gave birth to her.

"But mother, I don't see any inadequacies at all. I mean..." She faltered, shifting her gaze towards Ciel, and that was her biggest mistake.

Whatever sliver of self-control that she had been most keenly exercising immediately crumbled at the sight of Ciel and with a high-pitched squeal, she vaulted forwards and gathered Ciel up in her outstretched arms, her grasp so constricting upon him that he feared his entire body might just split in two.

"Oh Ciel, how could anyone say you're inadequate?! You're too perfect to be anything close to inadequate! You're so adorable! Haha!"

Her girlish laughter almost served to deafen Ciel and he cringed in utter discomfort, not at all in the mood to be floundered about so earlier in the morning.

To his rescue came most undesirably Aunt Francis, who was utterly appalled by her daughter's brash behaviour, her composure unraveling just the slightest amount to reveal the disgruntled features of contempt beneath. "Elizabeth! Insolent girl! How many times must I explain to you that you are a Lady, not a savage! Release the Earl Phantomhive at once!"

Her mother's abrasive tone immediately caused Elizabeth to unfurl her hold upon Ciel, springing backwards as if she had been struck by lightning. "I am so sorry, mother!" She cried anxiously as she disposed of herself as far away as she could get from Aunt Francis, which so happened to be behind Ciel, where she hid herself most determinedly, her massive emerald eyes induced with fret.

Ciel puffed out a strained sigh, feeling mournful for the dawn's peace that had fled him so soon. However, if he had believed that the day could not possibly get any worse, than he was proven most sorely mistaken, for when he inquired on whether or not Aunt Francis was interested in joining him for breakfast in the dining room, she declined completely, and instead began to address the certain 'inadequacies' that she had noticed impairing the household, listing them with all the surliness that she could possibly deliver in her regal voice. Within Ciel's gut, he could feel something roiling. Was it so unreasonable to have this discussion later, maybe after he'd eaten, perhaps? He supposed not.

"First of all, when I arrived at the front steps, I noticed a python slithering about in the garden! That's just preposterous!"

"They appear to be native around here," Sebastian chuckled dubiously, his most amiable of grins dancing along his terse lips. "There is no reason to fear them. They are unusual friendly."

"And what about the muddy footprints I noticed in the entrance hall?"

"I assume our gardener has forgotten to take his dirty shoes off before entering the manor again. I shall have to remind him."

"I would hope so! What kind of servant would be so ignorant?! Also, when I entered, I observed a broken vase on the stairway. What was that all about, Butler?"

"I was just about to clean that up right as you arrived."

"How careless! Your concerns should not be cleaning up the vase, but rather not dropping it in the first place! What would have happened if you Master had of cut his foot open as a result to your incompetence?!"

"I am quite aware of that. I apologise."

"What about this dust on the mantle?"

"The mansion was only dusted two day ago."

"Two days ago?! Are you that unqualified! Honestly, how..."

Ciel could no longer tolerate his Aunt's unnecessary shrieking. It rattled his brain so profusely that he was almost certain that he would be suffering a migraine by the day's end. Oh, if it would only come soon...

"Why is there still loose ash in the fireplace?"

"Of course, it was being used last night. I was going to fix it..."

"Of course?! Of course?! Don't get me started with..."

A riling heat was beginning to simmer just beneath the barriers of Ciel's skin. It twisted and coiled inside him, hot, frothing, like an untamed beast wriggling in its chains. It caused his blood to rise, and steadily, he could feel his patience for his Aunt's incessant whining rapidly slipping away from him.

"Do you have no standards? Why are these cushions in such disarray?"

"Because, Marchioness, Lady Elizabeth was just sitting there only moments ago."

"Then you should be..."

Ciel could not bear it anymore. He could feel himself beginning to shake so much in his bout of escalating fury that he worried he may loose his grasp on his own body. He was too tired for this. He did not have the time for this. Her voice was so grating upon his ears that his skull might just fracture with its intensity. Why on earth did the inadequacies of his household matter at a time such as this, and at all even? If Francis was not silent now, then he swore he would be driven insane by her constant yapping.

With a hoarse yowl, the rage that Ciel had been dutifully keeping buried inside suddenly burst out from him, his body growing as taut as a metal coil as harsh, unrestrained words that he appeared to have no control over came spilling from his tongue.

"Oh God! _Shut up!_ Do you think I care at all about what you say?! You come to my home - without notice, I might add - at six o'clock in the morning, just to list all the things that are wrong with the way my servants handle their duties?! Don't you understand how improper that is?! You claim your daughter to be indecent, and yet you are far worse! I am the Earl Phantomhive. I don't need a disrespectful cow telling me how to run my own household!"

 _To be continued..._


	8. A Father's Correction P2

_**His Butler, A Father's Correction Part 2**_

" _Oh God! Shut up! Do you think I care at all about what you say?! You come to my home - without notice, I might add - at six o'clock in the morning, just to list all the things that are wrong with the way my servants handle their duties?! Don't you understand how improper that is?! You claim your daughter to be indecent, and yet you are far worse! I am the Earl Phantomhive. I don't need a disrespectful cow telling me how to run my own household!"_

As soon as those words came tumbling from his mouth, Ciel immediately ceased his rant, biting down vigorously upon his lip, his single eye growing huge. He had not meant to go that far. He had not meant to say so much. It just flooded from him like a vicious river, and he had not been able to stop it from doing so, no matter if he honestly tried or not.

An eerie quiet resounded in its wake, his Aunt's voice now sullied, just as he had wanted, but he did not feel comfortable at all in effect to her desired silence. It was suffocating him, smothering him in its dense embrace, as though it was a blanket that had been forced upon him on a hot Summer's day, sticky and unyielding, making him flush with unpleasant warmth. Shock emanated from his Aunt's features, which was mildly satisfying to see, for it was extremely uncommon to witness her as anything but unflappable. Elizabeth had even receded back from him, her startled expression easily depicting her bewilderment at his abrupt outburst.

However, the pause could not last for long, for in a matter of moments, Sebastian had moved to stand before Aunt Francis, his back distinctly facing towards Ciel. Yet, as the demon stooped low, almost grovelling at the Lady's feet, whatever relief that had been instilled in Ciel for his Butler's intervention was immediately chased away by the regretful speech that came softly from Sebastian's conniving lips, brimming with such hidden disenchantment that Ciel could not help but acknowledge how his stomach pooled with dread.

"I must apologise for my Lord's actions. He is exceedingly tired today, and for that, I must ask you to forgive him. Please wait here while I take the Young Master to calm himself."

With that, Sebastian whipped round to turn his gaze upon Ciel, and Ciel could hardly suppress a shudder at the feeling of those disapproving eyes clawing into him as the Butler addressed him with all the splendour that a servant of his qualities could possibly muster.

"Now, if you will, my Lord, please follow me."

Ciel refused to let any of his apprehension show, but treaded at his Butler's heels with all the dignity that could be reaped from his scrawny bones. His sauntering steps gushed with indignation, as though each were proof of his own privilege and self-righteousness. Of course, on the inside, he did not feel this way at all, but was thoroughly disgusted in his own inability to hold his tongue. He had been at the mercy of his own shrewd temper, and was now justly ashamed for being so. Yet, visibly, his internal suffering did not faze him, for his head did not falter upon his shoulders, nor did his nose fall, but remained impressively high, wrinkling in a way that one might describe as snobbish. However, in spite of the aura of impassive indifference that he allowed to waft from him in waves, he could not bring himself to even slightly gaze at Sebastian, not even at the back of the demon's majestic head, for he felt too embarrassingly guilty to do so, much to his own disorientation. Why should he feel any grief for his actions? He had never felt any need to question such actions before. And why, of all things, did he feel exceptional grief just by pondering on the Butler, let alone looking at him? He did not care what the vile Butler thought of him...or at least, that was what he told himself...

Ciel struggled to remain level with Sebastian's enthusiastic pace as the demon swerved effortlessly down the hallways, until eventually, they reached Ciel's chambers and Sebastian held open the door for his Master, as any respectable Butler should. Ciel flounced into the room, his eyes infatuated with the window just ahead of him, as though its panes had somehow enraptured him with their transparency. However, as the light click of the door closing resounded against his ears, Ciel gulped tediously, bracing himself as much as he deemed possible before he turned to face his Butler.

"Sebastian, I -" he tested with a feeble voice, one that crackled and broke shamefully with unrequited anxiety. Yet with those cold, sadistic eyes stabbing into his resolve like the talons of an untamed, violent fiend, Ciel wisely clamped his lips shut, his entire body retracting into itself slightly, despite how he willed it to hold its ground.

Ciel barely managed to catch the immediate shift in the demon's movements as, in hardly the space of a heartbeat, Sebastian had advanced forward with the quickness of a hawk soaring towards its prey, and regretting his measly blink of surprise, Ciel felt himself physically shrink beneath the monstrous, looming presence of the Butler, the disturbed air due to the devil's sudden flight whisking against his skin like daggers of ice. Ciel could barely withhold the flinch that convulsed his fraught frame as a malevolent, pincer-like fist wrenched around his wrist and held it high in a gnarling grasp. Cheeks instantly grew bloodless and Ciel teetered backwards with sudden fret, beginning to struggle hopelessly in the demon's inflexible clutches.

"S-Sebastian, what are you doing?" Ciel stammered, tugging desperately against the fingers that held him painfully bound, his attempts effectively halted by Sebastian's unyielding strength that refused to be unraveled in any other way except by his own means. "L-let me go!"

Sebastian did not bulk at all at this, for his stony expression did not waver in the least, but remained forever frozen on his frosted features as, with one ingenious move, he also grabbed Ciel's cheek in one large, merciless hand, clenching it as harshly as he could manage without shattering it completely.

"My Lord, do you realise the magnitude of your actions?" The demon spat, the tone hissing from his slash of a mouth enough to cause Ciel's flesh to crawl unpleasantly. "Not only have you thoroughly abused your Aunt with your heedless words, but you have also gone so far as to abuse a _Lady_. As your Butler, I simply cannot stand idly by as you get away with such unlawful behaviour. To think that you would stoop so low is an utter disgrace to the name of Phantomhive. This appears to be but another mar in your character that I have mournfully neglected, and for that, I am most terribly sorry. I shall see that it is corrected immediately."

Ciel was aware with absolute clarity what those words entailed. He sensed the threat - no, the promise as though it was a pungent aroma taunting the air. And as if to prove his suspicions entirely accurate, Sebastian loosened his hold on his face, but kept his brace upon his wrist as sheer as ever, as he yanked tumultuously upon it, treating his arm as nothing more than a leash attached to a disobedient dog. Ciel, suffering a drastic spell of deja vu, instantaneously felt his escalating fear convert into spiteful rage as the entirety of his figure bristled like a feral kitten who had been unceremoniously dropped into a pond of frigid water. He had no intention of going through such an ordeal again, not so soon, not like this. Although he felt most aggrieved for his actions, there was no way he would allow Sebastian to throw him so precariously over his knee for a third time. He just couldn't bare it!

He thrashed about amidst the demon's grasp, squirming and shrieking in all the turbulence of his blinding fury. "Sebastian, I won't let you do this to me again!" He roared with all the ferocity he could possibly endure in his blighted voice. "You cannot do this! You have no _right_!"

Ciel was certainly knowledgeable enough to be aware most distressingly that his futile struggling would, as it was predicted, have no affect on the devil as he marched Ciel unfalteringly towards the bed. This, however, did not deter Ciel from wriggling with all the might that he could possibly unfold from his emaciated frame, for caving to such unmatchable power was not only submitting to the said power, but also to the unfathomable emotions that he simply could not allow himself to submit to.

To Ciel's pure dismay, Sebastian had reached the edge of the bed far sooner than anticipated and before Ciel truly had the chance to comprehend the enormity of his predicament, Sebastian had poised himself upon the mattress and had pulled roughly upon Ciel's wrist, placing Ciel's balance in complete disarray and sending him tumbling forward over the Butler's knee. In immediate recession of this, a vast hand was slammed firmly between Ciel's shoulder blades, binding him unshakably to the perch of the demon's blasted knee and rendering him entirely immobile. Still, this did not dishearten Ciel from kicking and flailing with every ounce of strength that remained stubbornly inside of him.

Ciel was floored by utter mortification as he felt icy, bare fingers suddenly coil around the hem of his shorts, tugging them down to bunch at his thighs with his drawstring undergarments following in swift pursuit. Humiliation incensed him beyond reason and he began to hammer his fists fruitlessly against the demon's calves, yowling so rawly that his throat was almost torn asunder. "Sebastian, don't you dare! Don't -!"

His voice was instantly slaughtered by a naked hand raining down upon his unguarded backside, clipping his fragile flesh with a dance of scathing wallops. Ciel clenched his teeth together so jarringly that his jaw ached profusely, infuriating tears, unbidden and unwanted rearing up in his eyes, bubbling at the rims. He could not believe that this was happening again. Sebastian did not have the right to be reprimanding him for his own wrongs! Sebastian did not have the right to be punishing him like this! He wasn't his father! His father was dead...gone...just like he'd said in the dream...and he was _never_ coming back...

 _No one_ could replace his father...especially not that _defiled, disgusting demon_ that was now laying into him as though he was nothing more than a troublesome schoolboy, probably watching in mirth as he shrivelled upon his monstrous knees, trying to escape from his incessant downpour of swats. He couldn't stand the feeling...being touched like this...it was awful... _horrible_...it turned his bones to ice and made him feel so uncomfortable that his skin practically writhed with it.

Releasing a ragged sob, Ciel moved his hands to protect his bare rear from the unrelenting smacks, only for his wrists to be caught in a bone-crushing grasp. Wailing in pain, Ciel cried, "Stop it, Sebastian! You can't do this! I won't let you!"

"I apologise, my Lord, but I must," replied a biting voice that seethed right next to his ear, so chilling that it only intensified Ciel's senseless trembling. "And now you have only made it far worse for yourself. Had you of just stayed perfectly still and not been so adamant to repent, I may have been more forgiving. But now I must revert to more painful means for you to learn you lesson."

From the corner of his eye, Ciel blanched in horror as he observed the Butler scoop up a wooden hairbrush from the bedside table and raised it high above his head. He released Ciel's wrists, yet not before whispering perhaps a little apologetically into his ear, "I will let go of your hands, but I do advice you don't try to cover yourself again. A blow from this on your delicate fingers may very well serve to break them."

"No, Sebastian! Please, don't! I -!"

His pathetic mewling assisted nothing but to strain his dwindling voice further, for it provoked nothing from the demon but a determination to proceed with his ghastly punishment with further earnest. Ciel's entire frame doused in ice as he watched in pure mortification as the rounded head of the hairbrush came soaring down from a grand height, whispering through the air as boastfully as a spitting viper, and collided with the frail skin of his exposed rear with the immensity of a smouldering iron poker against flesh. An involuntary howl went flooding from Ciel's lungs before he could even attempt to retain it and as soon as it fled from his lips, he began to gnaw violently upon his tongue to the point where the iron of blood fizzled inside his mouth, eager to not dare allow another sound like that to leave him again.

Finding great solace in clinging to Sebastian's ankles with his jittering fingers, Ciel spoke no more, nor did he retaliate. He felt something inside him gradually breaking with each relentless thwack that thrummed down upon his backside, but he gripped onto its shattering pieces as tightly as possible, intent on them remaining together, regardless of the cost to himself. Yet, it did not stop his tears as they effectively went streaming down his frigid cheeks, washing away as freely as a river after a bout of unrequited rain. Sobs wracked him, but he did not give them the pleasure of leaving his lips, but was reduced to allowing them wreak havoc on his body in silence.

The hairbrush was consistent, striking with unabashed accuracy, as burning as naked flames upon his skin, so horrible that Ciel was almost willing to beg for it to stop, if pride hadn't been so desperate to get in the way. It escalated to the point in which Ciel had begun to feel welts raising upon his flesh, but that was when, finally, to Ciel's evident relief, the hairbrush ceased in its assault and fell still, ending the punishment entirely.

As soon as the punishment was rendered finished, the hand upon Ciel's heaving back immediately reverted its manner from being an unbendable force to keep him fastened upon the demon's knees to an easeful caress that's only intention was to console him. However, Ciel was in no state of mind to accept such generosity. Flinging the hand away from him, Ciel instantly shoved himself from Sebastian's knee - not at all concerned of how brutally it pained him to do so - and stood upon his own two feet, spasms ripping through him as he withdrew away, not wanting to be anywhere near that cruel, wretched monster.

Replacing his pants back upon his hips, Ciel moved no further, but remained flush against the wall, his breathing so disjointed that even he himself feared that an assault of asthma was unavoidable. His surroundings appeared to be shifting, shifting fast, accelerating to the point that he felt he may just careen into its unstoppable turbulence and be swallowed by it forever, not that he minded. It might be nice just to disappear and stop thinking, stop _hurting_ anymore...

His Butler brought himself to Ciel's side and asked a question that Ciel's distorted ears could not comprehend. Still, the tone was disturbed and riled with worry, a clear hint to the demon's anxiety over Ciel's current condition. However, again as fingers brushed in pure tenderness over Ciel's shoulder, Ciel did not hesitate to throw them off, grounding out in an almost animalistic snarl, "Leave me, Sebastian! That is an order! I will be down shortly!"

The Butler did not delay a moment, but left Ciel alone without anything further but a "Yes, my Lord." As soon as he had declared with absolute certainty that he was completely by himself, Ciel did something that he had not ever desired in his short, torturous life to let himself do again. With his legs giving way, he succumbed to his knees and burrowing his sodden face deep into the palms of his hands, he freely cried, and openly _hated_ himself for it. He did not believe there had ever been a moment until now in which he had been disgusted with himself more. It sickened him to his very core.

He did not have time for this. He did not have the patience for this! To be so pathetic, so fragile, so breakable. What a waste of time it all was! And yet, weakness had infected him and it had been festering longer than he had ever truly been conscious of it. It had crept into his limbs and had crippled him from the inside out. And now, it was too late. Too late to rise, to be pulled out from this apse of darkness that had claimed him. He could only fall further into its stealing depths, and fall, he shall.

He wanted to kill Sebastian. He wanted to watch in satisfaction as that unholy demon died beneath his hands. Even if he revived only moments later. He just wanted to make that feral beast experience at least the tiniest morsel of agony he himself was suffering, to make him understand what great trauma he was enforcing upon him. He felt rage against the demon, and for that was at least a quarter of the reason why he sobbed so perversely.

A sliver was of physical afflictions that he was enduring most unceremoniously. But the majority of the reason that he cried was because of the internal turmoil that he could feel correlating inside him, a concoction of emotions that were waging wars against each other, turning his eggshell heart into a battle field that it simply could not bear. He was so confused, so disorientated by what he was experiencing that it made him long to just curl up into a ball on the floor and silence his nebulous thoughts forever. Why now, after surviving so long without these yearnings, had his yearnings for his father all suddenly resurfaced? And why was Sebastian making his misery all the more horrible?...

After some time - Ciel did not know how long - Ciel's cries gently subsided, fizzling away like a match that had exhausted its flame and, finally lifting his head from his hands, he wiped fervently at his dripping cheeks before wrapping his arms around his meagre frame, shivering so harshly that it was as though a chill had seeped into him that he could never hope to be alleviated from ever again.

He was nothing more but flimsy parchment, torn up parchment, with the edges burning, rapidly turning him into a pile of hopeless ash upon the carpeted floor.

Had he really grown so feeble? He supposed he had, and in time, as he finally braced the nerve to venture from his room, he feared that after the events of the morning, he would enter the same world that he had exited only moments before, but upon his return, he would not ever be entirely the same again...

XXX

 **Hey guys! Congratulations on making it through Part 2! This was a really intense chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **I also hope that I managed to keep Ciel mostly in character throughout this. It is definitely not Ciel's thing to cry in such a way, so keeping him in character was quite difficult, but I believe I pulled it off. However, I'm just going to mention this now; Ciel is not going to come out of this story exactly the same as when it started. Like all the events that happen in the Manga (such as the Circus Ark and the Luxury Liner Ark) Ciel didn't come out of those exactly the same as before they started, and I want this to be the same for my story. But it is not my intention to make him OOC either. If you don't understand, that's ok, just keep reading on and eventually you'll get the idea!**

 **Anyway, thank you for all your comments and favs! Get excited for the next chapter coming soon!**

 **HeartElyse**


	9. A Father's Encouragement

**Hey guys!**

 **Welcome to another chapter of 'A Father's Touch'. This is a bit of a comic-relief chapter, just to sort of calm down from the previous one. I had such a laugh writing this! It was inspired by Harrison Craig's version of 'She's a Lady', so I do advise you listen to it either during or before reading. You'll know why soon enough.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **HeartElyse**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, A Father's Encouragement_**

The day was dull, bland, like stale bread upon one's tongue, brittle and almost impossible to swallow. The sky was an incessant grey, a reflection of the morning's dreariness, mirroring perfectly what Ciel was feeling inside. Bored, strained, and utterly listless. The mountainous piles of paperwork served no purpose but to lower his esteem further as they shrouded the groove-riddled mahogany of the desktop, physical reminders of the ghastly hours that Ciel was certain lay ahead of him.

Groaning woefully, Ciel dropped his head to the desk, resting his cheek upon its cool, polished surface, allowing his azure eye to close as he pondered on his predicament. He required something to liven up his day! To bring some excitement to his daily endeavours! But what could possibly do that?

There was one thing...

Ciel's entire frame convulsed, his head jerking upwards, single eye bursting wide, the sudden disorientation and shock bleeding out from his expression. But as his initial surprise simmered away, Ciel lowered his face once more to the desk, yet the tension in his figure did not ease in the slightest, but remained taut like a twisted wire, his body radiating with embarrassed heat, his cheeks shamefully burning with pale crimson.

No! He could not do that! The very thought of doing such a thing was inconceivable! Disgraceful! What a childish thing to even entertain! Simply unbecoming of him! He would not allow himself to give into such petty temptation, especially when that damn Butler seemed to always have his foot sticking in the door, his demonic nose always sniffing about business that did not concern him in the least. Imagine the utter humiliation of that; he would certainly never live in peace again.

Oh, but how the urge enticed him so earnestly. It had been such a long time since he'd done those sorts of things that it almost sounded too cruel.

No one was near by, and the mansion was so large and extravagant that he was reassured that no one would hear. It would only be a moment, just a slight detour down memory lane, just to see whether or not he still had it within him, or if the cult had somehow managed to steal that away from him as well.

Arising stiffly from his chair and steadying himself onto his feet, Ciel gingerly made his way over to the gramophone by the dinghy corner of the study, each step timid and precise, as though he feared that one wrong move would completely sully his plan. Cautiously winding the small knob on the side to satisfaction, Ciel released it and withdrew backwards as a brassy, swinging tune began to resound from the elaborate horn protruding upwards from the wooden box of the gramophone.

Immediately, as though he was a hopeless romantic falling for a lover, Ciel unintentionally toppled downwards into the music, losing himself within the rhythm, becoming one with the beat. It was an unusual ability he'd possessed for as long as he could possibly remember. While he'd always been an abysmal dancer - although he would never openly admit it - Ciel had always had a splendid taste in music. His palette was so naturally in sync with it that his arousal towards it had become almost instinct rather than a conscious process. It would consume him like darkness consumed the light, and drowned him in an ocean so vast and deep that he almost didn't wish to escape. And he didn't fight it. He didn't even attempt to struggle. For in this blissful, intoxicating moment, he was not Earl Phantomhive, the Queen's ever loyal guard dog, but just Ciel, nothing more and nothing less.

And as the swaying sound heightened to a bouncing climax, Ciel's mouth arced wide and a harmonious voice, smooth and buttery upon the air arose from it.

" _Well, she's all you'd ever want,_

 _She's the kind I like to flaunt and take to dinner."_

Ciel unconsciously began to rock his hips from side to side, his frame flowing like water with the movement. He did not wonder of his voice - if it was at all good or if it was too loud - for his mind was reeling too much to care, the boastful waves of the song washing over him in a kind of pleasant fashion. He felt nostalgic in a sense, for this felt, despite all that had changed and soiled him, no different from how it had felt before when he used to do this, when he was no older than nine-years-old, belting out relentless melodies with his mother, giggling and laughing, admiring her tone, her grace, her unshakable beauty...

" _Well, she always knows her place,_

 _She's got style, she's got grace, she's a winner."_

Bobbing about on his heels like a crazed loon, Ciel felt no need to restrain himself as - with his body completely divided from his mind, residing in seperate realms where neither could impress themselves upon the other - he braces himself upon his hunches and propelled himself with a distant elegance upwards upon the top of his desk, his booted feet sending stacks of parchment floundering into the air like a dazzling flock of pristine white feathers. Tossing his head, Ciel allowed nature to sink its claws into him as his angelic tones came flooding from his lips, dousing the silence with its intensity.

" _She's a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's a lady._

 _Talkin' about that little lady, and the lady is mine."_

Ciel didn't think. He couldn't think. He didn't need to. His sparse body was what held all the power, acting upon its own desires and design, spinning and jamming ceremoniously to each and ever pulse of the tune. He had no capacity to concern himself with anything else.

" _Well, she's never in the way,_

 _Always something nice to say, and what a blessin'._

 _I can leave her on her own,_

 _Knowin' she's OK alone and there's no messin'."_

Diving deeper and faster, unable to stop, unable to care...

" _She's a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's a lady._

 _Talkin' about that little lady, and the lady is mine..."_

Twirling, swaying, gravity failing, world shifting, drifting further and further away...

XXX

" _Well, she never asks very much,_

 _And I don't refuse her._

 _Always treat her with respect,_

 _I never would abuse her."_

The servants, who were all gathered in the kitchen about to begin the preparations for the Young Master's lunch, abruptly paused in their tasks as a voice carried towards their ears, rich and baritone, yet identically beautiful and delicate at the same time.

"I say, what do you think that is?" Cried Finny, his gaze fixated on the wall as he closely listened, the wade of rosemary in his hand long since forgotten.

"I don' know," gaped Mey-Rin, the plates that had once been in her hands now shattered uselessly on the checkered floor. "It sounds like someone's singin', yes it does!"

" _What she's got is hard to find,_

 _And I don't want to lose her._

 _Help me build a mountain,_

 _From a little pile of clay, hey, hey, hey!"_

"I believe you are quite right, Mey-Rin," Sebastian murmured, combing his fingers thoughtfully over his chin, contemplating for a moment. He was already aware of who that voice belonged to, yet that possibility, although glaring him directly in the face, sounded too unbelievably to comprehend. "But the more pressing question is 'why'?"

"Let's check it out!" was Bard's answer, as he heedless chucked his knife down upon the metallic bench and traipsed enthusiastically towards the door.

"Good idea, dear chap! Says WordsWorth," muttered Snake, donning his apron as he followed Bard out of the kitchen, his scaly friends in quick pursuit.

Internally, Sebastian chortled, thinking of only the mayhem that was sure to commence as a result of this tedious venture, almost taking pity on a certain someone who was surely just goofing about in his study, but agreeing to play along anyway, a human curiosity irking him somewhat. How amusing!

" _Well, she knows what I'm about,_

 _She can take what I dish out, and that's not easy."_

The servants, like rabid horses, excitedly galloped up the staircase and down the bewildering corridors, their patience growing thinner by the second as they edged ever nearer to the voice that graced the manor with such sweet, exhilarating music, their interest becoming more apparent the louder the intonation became.

" _But she knows me through and through,_

 _And she knows just what to do and how to please me."_

They found themselves standing before their Master's study door, listening intently at the keyhole, their eyes bulging so far out of their skulls that it almost appeared that they would fall out of their sockets. Even Sebastian looked astounded, his garnet pupils shrinking so much so that they were almost swallowed entirely by the whites of his eyes. Neither had been really assured of what they had been expecting, but this seemed almost too rich to be true.

With Mey-Rin fretfully turning the doorknob in her shuddering fingers, the door creaked open slightly, allowing a small vantage point for them to observe the room, and what they saw within only served to drop their jaws even more.

Paperwork cloyed the auburn floor like ivory rose petals cloyed a flowerbed. Quills were scattered everywhere, and ink bottles were smashed, leaving large, ebony blotches staining the carpet. Their Master was standing erect upon his desk, flaunting across it as though it were an exquisite stage that could compare to only that found on Broadway, his back to them, his body angled towards the window as though what lied beyond was his mesmerised audience. The boy seemed enraptured by the music, in a trance as one could say, his boots shuffling, his heels clicking, his shoulders popping, his arms raised high, singing to his hearts content. To the servants, seeing their Master so loose and radiant, was utterly mystifying.

" _She's a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's a lady._

 _Talkin' about that little lady, and the lady is mine."_

The boy whirled, accomplishing a faultless 360 degree Pirouette, and the servants went as stiff as bound ropes, preparing to fling themselves back down the hallway in case the Young Master spotted them prying on his private business. However, as the child spun, his singular eye that was not hidden by the dark fabric of his eyepatch was lightly closed, his silky features soft and boneless as he voiced the notes with flawless precision. Sebastian shook with a silent fit of laughter, admiring his Master's vulnerability.

" _Yeah, yeah, yeah! She's a lady._

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's a lady._

 _Talkin' about that little lady..."_

The Music gradually faded out, and as it did, Ciel's voice was lost with it, leaving only a content silence simpering in its wake. The boy remained frozen for a moment, still standing upon his desk, his shoulders smooth, his back flaccid, his arms hanging limp by his sides. A pleasant, almost comforted sigh could be heard escaping from him, as though a congestion deep inside of him had been finally unplugged. Even though his face was not shown to them, the servants did not need to see to feel that their Young Master was happy.

However, as the boy turned swiftly around so that he was now facing the doorway, the soles of his boots tinkering gently upon the wood as he made to step down from the desk to be embraced by the security of flat ground once more, the servants halted in mortification as their employer's single, beady eye flashed up, capturing them in its fierce glare. Yet, if they believed that they would be the most petrified to be caught in such an act of indecency against their Master, they were quickly enlightened otherwise as the boy flinched violently backwards, recoiling, his skin blanching, his lips gaping, his eye stretching wide, utterly startled by the sight that was hovering so crassly in front of him. His limbs were bunched up so tightly that Sebastian could practically hear the bones creaking with the strain. It was a humorous sight indeed!

And what aided to make his withheld laughter even more testing to keep contained was watching as the child's entire body bloomed with colour, the embarrassment emitting from him so immensely that steam appeared almost certain to be protruding from his ears with how red they had become.

But the demon's strife wasn't over yet, because with a mere blink of an eye, the boy had somehow managed to leap from his perch on the desk and had taken refuge beneath it, concealing himself completely from the view of his patriotic servers.

Each of the dumbfounded servants spared each other an abashed glance, all shrugging and shaking their heads in a way that caused Sebastian's denial of laughter to grow almost agonising in a sense. Eventually, Mey-Rin took a very uncertain step across the threshold into the designated area of the study, feeling very uncomfortable for intruding on her Lord's almost sacred space without invitation, asking most precariously, "Umm, Young Master?..."

"Don't you all have work to do?" Came a feeble, yet scathing voice from beneath the desk, instantly drawing the servants to attention and sending them on their way with their tails all between their legs. Except for Sebastian that is. He could very much assure you that his tail was no where near his legs.

Daring a wicked grin to flounce upon his slashing lips, he entered the room and most respectfully closed the door behind himself before advancing forward with the tactfullness of a cat on the prowl, sweeping around the desk so quietly that he was most amused to feel his little Lord jerk back slightly in surprise when his polished shoes materialised in the boy's line of vision. Kneeling down, Sebastian was not at all shocked to find the child pressed into a tiny corner of mahogany, his limbs bunched together, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms bound tightly around them, his head still raised magnificently high in the name of his dignity, in spite of the blooming scarlet blush that emblazoned his cheeks. Upon witnessing the Butler's taunting smirk, the boy immediately took the defensive, shrinking further into the corner, despite of how he lashed out at Sebastian with a grating snarl.

"I thought I told you to leave!"

"Not quite, my Lord," Sebastian chuckled with fabricated affection, much to the child's distain. He waited patiently for an order, but when he did not receive one, he simply continued. "If I may ask, Young Master, when did you learn to sing like that?"

The boy's frame grew tense with hesitance, the question appearing to wither the child as he averted his eyes to the lurid green of the floor, his shoulders shifting in discontent. For a moment, he stammered, his words tumbling from his lips in such a disjointed slosh that it almost seemed that the child had lost the ability to speak properly. Eventually, a sentence after a sentence started to slip through the air, timid and wavering to begin with, however, as he progressed with his explanation, his voice gradually found itself again.

"I-it was a long time ago. When I was little, Mother used to always sing for Father and me. She was a horrid dancer! She couldn't even waltz properly; she'd just cling to Father for dear life and look pretty, hoping no one would notice. I even remember Auntie Ann saying once that she had two left feet!"

"Just like someone else I know," interjected Sebastian mischievously, greatly humoured by the death glare he received in consequence.

"Do you want me to finish the story or not?"

"Yes, please do continue."

With an exasperated huff, Ciel continued. "Anyway, while she was awful at dancing, she was amazing when it came to singing. No matter what you ask of her, she would deliver. And eventually, just for the fun of it, I would join in. And it became an almost regular occurrence. On most days, we'd sing together, just belting out tune after tune while Father would listen, sometimes dancing, sometimes just watching. Apparently I wasn't all that bad, but they were probably just saying that to save me grief."

The boy's eye was thriving with an unquenchable glow of warmth that Sebastian observed rather fondly. Ah, his Lord and his memories. The Butler was astonished often by how charming they were. Such beautiful recollections, only to be defiled by such tragedy.

However, to Sebastian's bewilderment, the boy suddenly began to physically deflate, his shoulders falling, his chin drooping, his fringe spilling heavily over his resentful eye. "But what does it matter now? I probably sound utterly terrible now."

Sebastian actually chortled at the ludicrousy of this, which served to jar the boy's entire frame with a wave of amazement. "Terrible, my Lord? Oh, far from it!" He corrected, a kind smile brightening his pale features. "The servants were so enraptured by your voice that they couldn't bear to remain in the kitchen while you were singing so far away. Your tone is so powerful, yet so angelic that not even a single soul can endure it without pausing to listen. To be frank, your voice is exceptional, my Lord."

The boy appeared unable to make even the most measly of sounds, but held his lips slightly agape, his singular sapphire eye so wide, it could've just popped right from its socket. Internally quaking with mirthful laughter, Sebastian offered a hand to his Lord, his aura emitting waves of amiable reassurance and encouragement as he addressed the child once again.

"Come, my Lord. Let us make something of this boring day. Perhaps another song or two might assist in getting my point across."

For a moment, the boy did not respond, but glanced at him dubiously, clearly trying to detect a plot in his wraith of assurances and compliments. However, obviously finding none, Ciel gingerly took his Butler's hand and allowed the demon to carefully draw him free from his hiding place, and sheepishly smiling himself, Ciel could not deny the hope he felt for the less dull hours that appeared to be ahead of him. Should he feel this way? He did not know, nor did he really want to care for the moment. He just wanted to have...fun for a while...

God, what was happening to him?!


	10. A Father's Reassurance

**READ AUTHOR'S NOTES DOWN BELOW ONCE FINISHED READING.**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, a Father's Reassurance_**

Sebastian had been utterly baffled by his Lord as of late. It had initiated exactly a month ago at the time of dawn's breaking, the usual time in which Sebastian would stir his Young Master. However, when he'd arrived at the boy's chambers, the child was already very much awake and had managed to barricade himself in the adjoined bathroom connected to the bedroom, wailing for Sebastian to leave him be in a flustered and shaky tone that was a completely foreign sound to be protruding from his pompous mouth. He even went so far as to order it, and not being able to refuse such a request, Sebastian exited the room, noticing the absence of the Earl's bedsheets as he left, finding their remnants later in the drawing room's fireplace, completely burned to a crisp.

This was a cycle that continued for the next two weeks that followed. On some mornings, the child would appear fine, grumpy and unruly as his waking self usually was, but impervious nonetheless. He was the Young Master that the demon could perfectly understand. Yet on other mornings, Sebastian would once again traipse into his Lord's chambers to find the mattress completely barren of a boy and it blankets, with the child imprisoning himself in his own bathroom, demanding the Butler go away. It was truly worrisome. And yet that wasn't even the end of his concerns.

The third and fourth weeks were a tiresome battle that waged between the Earl and his Butler, the irrational and the reasonable, and no one, not even the servants, wanted to get themselves caught in the crossfire. When the child's bedtime would near, the boy would not simply allow himself to be put to sleep by the demon, but would refuse and instead bury himself into his paperwork that he'd idly been completing all day long or that novel he'd fervently been reading and was determined to finish. This would coax Sebastian to practically wrestle his Master to bed, which would warrant immense fury in the child, so much so that he would vent it upon his Butler in the form of harsh curses and pathetic violence, violence that the Butler would ignore with the most amiable of smiles, a smile that disguised just how much his patience was slipping. It was such a tedious task to button up his Lord's nightshirt when the boy was basically having a fit in his grasp, flailing and whining like a helpless kitten that had been placed in a basin of frigid water. Then there was also the loathsome duty of trying to gently wrap his Master in his blankets, while at the same time, the boy was most testily attempting to kick them off. And of course, there was the little snag that even if he did finally manage to settle the child down, the boy just wouldn't sleep. The Earl would stubbornly remain awake for the duration of the night, his presence restless and even fretful in the cobwebs of the demon's mind until morning arrived and the Butler would return to the room to find his Master in the most grouchy of moods, exhausted and desperate for tea.

The dilemma escalated to the point that Sebastian was willing to even question the servants about it, swallowing his pride in doing so.

"Refusing ta' sleep, ya say?" Bard pondered as he absentmindedly chopped the onions required for the Quiche Lorraine being served as a component of the morning's breakfast.

"Yes," Sebastian confirmed, hovering by the chef's side in fear the incompetent ex-soldier might hack off his fingers as a result of his careless cutting. "It has been going on for quite some time now, and it's beginning to bother me."

"That's strange," murmured Finny over the bucket of water he was using to wash the herbs in the far corner of the kitchen. "The poor Young Master. Do you think something's upsetting him?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Sebastian brooded, his sharp eyes still fixed upon Bard's endangered hands. "But no matter how many times I ask, the Master will simply not tell me."

"But I thought Smile told you everything, Black. Says Emily," came Snake's timid reply as the Footman kneaded the dough rather expertly across the flour-cloyed bench, his black-and-red striped counterpart perched on his shoulder.

"Not necessarily," Sebastian responded, finally assuring himself that the burly cook wouldn't cause injury to himself and instead focused full-heartedly on whisking the eggs in the bowl that he had tucked neatly between the curve of his elbow and his side. "The Young Lord is naturally private. While he does confide many things to me, certain things, things that trouble him, he will mostly keep to himself."

"It must be really personal if he doesn't tell you, Mr Sebastian. Oh yes it does!" was Mey-Rin's addition to the conversation as she stood hunched over the counter, polishing the silverware with great vigour in an attempt to hide the sudden blush that bloomed on her cheeks at the thought of herself sharing such personal matters with the immaculate Butler.

A dense paused filtered throughout the kitchen, ripe with confusion and uncertainty. Yet after a moment, Bard's nonchalant voice murdered the quiet, bringing with it a conclusion that surprisingly peeked Sebastian's curiosity.

"It's probably just a phase."

"A phase?" Sebastian inquired, his russet pupils shrinking against the whites of his eyes as he halted in his whisking and jolted his head upwards to gaze entirely at the chef, who raised his own head in equal measure, piercing Sebastian with his angular sky-blue irises.

"Yeah, you know, like...puberty, for example. I mean, come on, Sebastian. Don't cha remember being moody at his age, wanting to break the rules and all that kinda stuff?"

Sebastian contemplated this for a moment, placing an intricately gloved pointer finger on his narrow chin. While what Bard had described didn't appear to quite fit, a particular phase might actually be what his Master was experiencing, and Sebastian was simply not conscious of it. Perhaps studying this 'puberty' topic may not be such a perverse idea.

That evening, Sebastian did not hesitate to venture to the library and read up on the subject. While the articles on the issue were few and far-between, Sebastian found himself rather enlightened by the information that he did discover. It amused him most affectively. The thought of humans going through such a discomforting process made a chuckle rumble softly in his throat. To imagine his Lord enduring such a procedure caused the laughter to only grow more apparent. How humorous!

However, even with these vital facts now at his disposal, he could still not decipher exactly what they meant to his Master's situation. Stumped, Sebastian decided to hold his fire for the time being and allow the boy to do as he pleased, agreeing that instead of forcing the child to spill out the truth, the Butler would simply wait for when his Young Master was willing to explain, or at least when he wandered upon the truth by accident. Unbeknown to the demon, his waiting would not need to last for very long...

It was another bustling morning in the Phantomhive Estate. Sebastian had journeyed to the Young Earl's chambers to discover that once again, as he'd anticipated, the boy had had a rough night, tossing and turning about like a caged bird beneath his bedsheets, getting not even a wink of sleep, and was now so insufferable that Sebastian almost believed he may form the human ailment known as the headache, despite it being a known fact that it was impossible for a demon to do so. He'd most reluctantly began to perform the task of dressing the detestable boy, all the while advising that due to his Master's lax schedule, they should travel to London in the hope of discovering a most exquisite Christmas present for Lady Elizabeth and her family, as the fateful time of year was fast approaching. To his immense wonder, the child obliged, suggesting they depart as soon as breakfast was over. Being contented by this, Sebastian had enthusiastically led his Lord down to the dining room, where the boy fiddled with his breakfast and only ate selectively what he chose to eat.

After the Earl decided to no longer persist in playing with his food, Sebastian whizzed away the dishes before returning to escort his Master to the carriage that awaited his arrival outside. The child instructed that Sebastian be the coachman for the duration of the trip, to which Sebastian accepted without protest nor question, coming to the conclusion that his Master wished to have time to himself. Yet as their expedition began, Sebastian became awake to the fact that as they neared the edge of the forest that shielded the manor from the existence of the outside world, his Lord's conscious ubiety was gradually dwindling in the back of his mind. This drew a chortle from Sebastian.

 _Finally asleep I see, Young Master,_ the demon inferred, not at all bewildered in the least. The boy had so profusely deprived himself of sleep that it was no surprise.

However, as they delved into the outskirts of London, Sebastian's nose started to twitch. The scent, while it remained his Master's, did not radiate in the way it should have been. Something wasn't quite right. Although it was a stench that the Butler found familiar and disturbed his senses most often, for such an aroma to be emitting itself from the Young Earl just seemed...incorrect...

Still, Sebastian refrained from checking up on the vexatious child until they eventually came to a halt just outside the market place residing in the dwellings of West London. But as the demon guardedly took the liberty of cracking open the side door of the carriage and steeled himself in peering inside, Sebastian was most astounded by what he discovered.

To put it plainly, the boy was in a right mess. A blissful mess to be exact.

Blossoms of crimson fleshed out upon his pudgy cheeks as the usually high-strung Earl squirmed beneath intangible hands, wriggling like a fanatical worm in the crevice between the window and the seat. Soft purrs and pleasured whimpers escaped from him involuntarily as his frame bulked and shook helplessly against the tide of scandalous sensations that served to ail him so. His legs jolted, knees bunching, his entire body wounding itself as tightly as a metal sprung as the tension inside the boy intensified to the point of unbearable.

Well, this explained the burnt sheets then. Why, his Lord was being inflicted by wet dreams.

Out of courteous respect for his Master's privacy - and also sensing that the child's graceless noises might draw unmerited attention - Sebastian silently eased the carriage door closed once again, feeling it best to wait for his Lord to 'finish' before addressing him again. The Butler's terse lips furled upwards into a magnificent Cheshire grin, his scarlet irises beaming with mischief at the prospect of the boy being so vulnerable and unguarded in his rather ungodly state. However, the demon agreed to not poke fun at the Earl, aware that doing so may just make matters far worse than they already were. At least he could say that this venture had been rather illuminating, if he could say anything about it at all.

A few moments lapsed by before the vulgar stench of arousal climaxed and then ebbed away into the vast nothingness that was empty air, leaving a lewd contentment to resound in its wake. Satisfied, the Butler, with a reserved poise that one such as he should manifest in a dilemma such as this, entered the carriage to find the Young Earl utterly boneless in his seat, his limbs heavy, his cheeks still flushed magenta from his rather indulgent slumber. A damp patch could be detected upon the boy's sky-hued shorts, and Sebastian was obliged to swallow a smirk in response. The child blearily unsheathed his only visible eye, its depths foggy and disorientated, as though his rattled mind could not comprehend the surroundings that he had found himself in. His iris moved with gruelling slowness, fixing upon Sebastian's featured with mild confusion.

"Seb...astian?" His Lord inquired with a voice as muddled and sticky as clotted syrup, to which the Butler transcended with the most amiable of smiles, greeting his Master in the same ritualistic fashion that he always strived to achieve.

"Why, good morning, my Lord. Did you sleep soundly?"

The boy appeared too perturbed to respond to this, thoroughly uncertain of what his servant was implying to. However, as recognition gradually dawned on him, the Earl's colourful cheeks blanched to porcelain as his eye soared instinctively downwards to his soiled pants, discovering what he had been most dreading. Mortification engulfing him in waves, his singular orb bulging as he yanked his knees upwards to his chest, as though that would somehow conceal his rather humiliating state of affairs. The striking reek of disgust arose from the child, taunting the demon's nose most cruelly. However, Sebastian decided to focus his quarries elsewhere, for he did not need his senses to know that the boy was feeling utterly wretched with shame.

"Perhaps we should return to the manor. I'm sure this little errand can wait for another day, don't you agree, my Lord?"

The Earl merely flinched in response, his head stooped so low that his fringe tumbled over his eye, shielding it from Sebastian's wicked gaze. Taking this as answer enough, Sebastian lightly closed the door again and proceeded to return to the front of the carriage, where he coaxed the horses back into motion once more.

It was not at all long before they arrived at the manor and, halting the horses, Sebastian reverted back to the carriage door, opening it to find no change in his Lord what so ever, with the boy's body still crammed against the window, his legs tugged close to him, his chin gravely low. Smiling with all of the reassurance he could possibly muster in his slim lips, Sebastian advanced inside, moving to lift the boy from his little reprieve upon the seat, saying with all the kindness that existed in his heartless soul, "Come now, my Lord. Allow me to whisk you away before the servants even hear a whisper that we've returned."

Just as Sebastian's gloved hand was about to infringe upon the boy's arm however, the child's entire body jarred so savagely that his head went careening backwards into the particularly solid wall behind it. Yet, if the action pained his Lord, he did not hint to it in the least, for he was too preoccupied with cowering away from the demon's touch, snarling and spitting aggressively like a defenceless little creature, his single azure eye ablaze with madness, the entirety of his face shrouded in magenta.

"Don't touch me!" The boy seethed, his voice infected by embarrassing breaks and raw crackling.

Sebastian was not at all fazed by his Master's outburst, but remained resolute, replying in his most impassive of tones, "Would you rather the servants discover your rather disgraceful condition? I certainly don't believe you do."

The boy bristled further at his words, a grating roar gnashing from his clenched jaw, and for a moment, Sebastian was almost convinced the boy would not cave. However, eventually, the boy breathed a wounded huff, the air rattling from his lungs as he slumped once again in his seat, his head falling once more. Satisfied with his Lord's submission, Sebastian cautiously slid an arm beneath the boy's knees and another around the boy's shoulders before peeling him free from the seat and dashing him away, back into the mansion, or more accurately, the child's bathroom.

Upon entering the chamber without a hitch, Sebastian most courteously placed the disgruntled Earl back on his own, marginally quaking legs before turning away and began to make preparations on the bath. Dousing the basin to the brim with torrents of steamy water, Sebastian felt it best to add the indulgent aroma of Vanilla to it, as the scent had a quite profound calming affect on his Young Master, which Sebastian could not deny, seemed appropriate for a situation such as the one unfolding before him.

Reverting back to his Lord's side - who had not at all brought it upon himself to move from where Sebastian had subsequently disposed of him - Sebastian reached out a hand to start undressing the boy. Yet, once again, the boy reacted lividly, smacking Sebastian's hand away with an aimless fly of his arm, his body retracting backwards against the tiled wall, with his entire frame inflicted by spasms of furious humiliation.

"Get away from me!"

Sebastian's patience depleted slightly, however, attempting to conjure an appearance that was near soothing to the evidently distraught child, he sighed, "My Lord, I understand that you are embarrassed, but acting this way isn't helping anyone at all. Please, allow me to assist you. I am sure you will feel far more comfortable with those clothes off than on."

The Earl's eye smouldered with bullheaded defiance and the very shape of his body, so rigid and drawn together, screamed with a willingness to strike Sebastian again if he even pondered on touching him once more. Yet, it was in his Lord's eye that Sebastian could also detect immense weakness. It shimmered amidst the pale light of the room, vibrating erratically with unquenchable tears, so fierce that they appeared ready to spill over at any moment. In all seriousness, Sebastian could sense his Lord's confusion, his utter disorientation, and most of all, his horror at one of his most treasured secrets being discovered in such an undesirable way. Sebastian would of almost exercised pity for the child, if he knew how.

His tactful goading finally had a positive affect on his Young Master, for after several seconds of glaring at his Butler with murderous intent, the boy's resolve crumpled and he allowed Sebastian to start unbuttoning his shirt without further retaliation. As he eventually arrived at his Lord's spoiled pants, he took haste in removing them, feeling no reward in antagonising the child further. As he slipped free the Earl's sopping undergarments, he was not at all startled to hear a strangled gasp resound above him and did not need to even glance upward to know that the boy's entire face would be covered in heated red.

Now completely bare, his Master took no time at all in plunging into the bath, where he submerged himself among the fronds of foam, and, had he of not needed oxygen to breathe, Sebastian was sure the boy would have hidden himself entirely beneath the water. Fetching a sponge, Sebastian immediately began to scrub away the poorly white residue that lavished the smooth, magnificent skin of the boy's legs. In response, the child appeared to shrink further downwards into the bubbles, his eye painfully shut, as though closing it might serve to alleviate the reality of his horrid situation, his lips quivering just the littlest amount.

Exhaling tentatively, Sebastian agreed that it was time for him to speak, more for the recovery of the boy's own vanity than a wish for conversation.

"You do realise, my Lord, that this is not uncommon?"

The boy abruptly snapped open his eye, clearly astonished that the Butler addressed the awkward topic so boldly. However, when he served to do nothing but stare, Sebastian saw it relevant to continue.

"Many humans that are of your age go through a similar process. I believe it is called...'Puberty'."

"Puberty?" His Lord inquired in still a slightly injured voice, however, to Sebastian's humour, the boy's curiosity appeared to be somewhat healing it. Oh, it was amusing how naive his Young Master could sometimes be!

"Yes," the demon smirked most cheekily, moving the sponge in easeful circles upon the boy's shoulders. "A phase of violent hormones. You have nothing at all to fear from these sorts of accidents, my Lord; they are nothing more than a reaction to your body's changes. They are a sign that you are 'growing up'."

The Young Earl appeared to contemplate this for a moment, mulling it over inside his mind. And as he thought, the tension within his frame appeared to unhinge, at least a little reassured as he asked in a slightly more sustaining voice, "And what happens in this 'Puberty' business."

Relieved that his Lord seemed more at ease, Sebastian did not waver in replying. "Well..."

XXX

 **Hey guys!**

 **Now, before you start calling me a pervert, allow me to explain! I've seen this type of story done a lot, but most of the time it turns into a smutty romance fic that just gives me the creeps! So, I wanted to do something neutral with this idea that would reflect the overall goals of my story, WITHOUT turning into something blatantly wrong and creepy. While I have no problem with people having their own interests and opinions, please respect mine when I say I completely disagree with Sebaciel and you won't ever find me writing anything with that ship attached to it. I can accept other people liking it, but I can't personally like it myself. It's okay if you disagree; everyone is entitled to their own opinions! Just getting that in the open!**

 **Also, the actual dream Ciel had was irrelevant, otherwise I would have mentioned it. And no, Ciel wasn't dreaming about Sebastian in any kind of way! That would've made the situation far more awkward than it already was!**

 **Anyway, with that said, thanks to your amazing reviews - especially to everyone who has been reviewing and loving my work since the very beginning - I have finished the final few chapters of this story, and so I was wondering, would you like me to post them straight away, or leave you hanging for just a bit longer?**

 **Thank you for all of your kind words, and to everyone who has favourited, followed, or just been reading this story silently in the background. A special thanks to trepidon, for your words were so nice that I practically cried with happiness.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **HeartElyse**


	11. A Father's Consolation

_**His Butler, A Father's Consolation**_

 _The corpse was alive. Amidst the tendrils of suffocating smoke. It's arms hung outstretched towards Ciel, the skin mollified and streaming in clots of dense, blackened blood, the fingers severed and charred. The stench of melting flesh was so pungent that it riddled his senses, branding a rotten, scathing flavour on his tongue, making bile slither up from his stomach and squirm fretfully within his throat._

 _Glaring crimson spilled from sightless eyes as they blinked upon Ciel's trembling figure, the white orbs convulsing with anguished tears as a voice came hacking out from the shredded tatters of lips that remained, sobs of red and froth dribbling out with each strangled word._

 _"Please, Ciel! My son! D-don't leave! I just want...want to touch your beautiful face again... Just one more time..."_

 _Ciel could not say a word. He could not even bear to utter a sound. If he did, he knew that he would surely throw up. Ice had frozen his limbs and he could not move. He was helpless, at the mercy of those cold, broken hands as they jittered forward, painting his cheeks scarlet with waxy, melted skin and ooze, clawing manically at his defiled, cursed eye, trying to rip it free from its socket. That was when Ciel screamed._

 _"A demon's mark! A demon's mark! Oh no... No! No! No! My son! Ciel! Hush now! I can save you! Just let me rip it out! Let me rip it out!"_

XXX

Ciel sat bolt upright in bed as though a wire had suddenly been thrust up his spine, the dream, the panic instantly chased away by the sight of the gloomy bedroom surrounding him, its walls and crevices veiled in shadow and darkness. Yet despite the familiarity of the sight dancing before his eyes, he could not shake himself of the dread that dug at his stomach with its sharp, fastening claws, warning that something was terribly wrong. His gaze floundered about the room, but nothing appeared particularly peculiar about it. Nothing odd, nothing dangerous, but as unchanged as ever, without the slightest object positioned off centre or out of place. It was exactly how he'd left it before shutting his eyes and allowing himself to drift into a somewhat restless sleep.

Within the confusion of his frantic, scrambled mind, Ciel took a hold of the duvet and ripped it from his body, intending to investigate the foreboding more closely. However, as the dense material was scrunched in between his fingers, immediately he froze. The fabric was soaked. And not only that, but now that he was aware of it, he felt a foreign, sticky wetness that drenched the entire lengths of his legs and a hot dampness that plastered his silken clothes to his skin. A new kind of horror gushed through him as an awful realisation dawned on him.

He'd... _wet the bed?!_

And that was only the beginning of the disastrous dilemma that was sure to ruin him. In mere heartbeats, a soft sound on knuckles tapping on his bedroom door could be heard, followed by the eerie question of "Young Master?". Sebastian must have heard him scream. Ciel squirmed, a panicked gasp hissing from his lips as his mind raced with what to do. Having Sebastian witness him in such a state was absolutely intolerable, and with all that had been occurring lately, including the incessant nightmares that refused to leave him alone, the demon was the last person in the whole world that Ciel wanted to see right now. In the end, he simply threw the sodden sheets back over himself, bunching them up desperately in his arms, pleading that the darkness would disguise the obvious wet patch that splayed out over them. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears of shame making a nuisance of themselves at the corners, refusing to budge.

Shame. He'd been suffering that a lot recently.

The door of the room swung wide and Ciel peeked open an eye to see Sebastian's imposing features swimming before him, still clad in a dashing vest and tailcoat as though the obvious shifts between night and day were of no concern to him, which they most likely weren't as he was a demon after all. Ciel often found the butler's presence reassuring after the distress of his usual nightmares, yet these nightmares were not at all the same and tonight, his presence was not welcome and Ciel cowered beneath the covers of his bed, his heart fluttering, his breathing hagged, twitching and shuddering with the uncomfortable feeling of moisture drizzling down his thighs.

"My Lord?" the butler questioned, his tone as assured as ever as he cautiously approached, sidling into the room. "Are you quite well?"

Gulping thickly, Ciel pressed his cheek into the feathered plush of his pillow, trying to conceal the brilliant flush of embarrassment that adorned his face. "I-I'm fine, now please, j-just go, S-Sebastian..."

"Now, now, Young Master," Sebastian murmured delicately, drawing ever nearer to the side of the bed, much to Ciel's dismay. "There's no need to lie. Your denial is only making it all the more obvious that something is wrong."

"Just leave me alone!" Ciel snarled defensively, but the shakiness in his tone served to only wither the pride and authority dwindling within it as he buried himself further into the mattress, the tears of humiliation only growing more persistent.

Sebastian remained irksomely silent, making no move to leave, and as Ciel shifted in his spot, attempting to alleviate at least some of the irritation, he was aware far too late of his mistake as Sebastian's russet eyes flickered downwards in suspicion, and without the thinnest air of warning, shredded the blankets from Ciel's grasp, allowing them to fall away from the boy's frame. Suddenly so exposed, Ciel furled inwardly into a tight ball, tucking his head into his knees, a petrified whimper tugging from his lips, his cheeks doused in red. However, the damage had already been done. It was impossible to hide; the large dark stain that had bled outwards into the sheets surrounding him. It was so clear, so definite, like the impeccable contrast between black and white.

"Oh my, it appears the Little Lord has had an accident," Sebastian's voice simpered from above, with such fond amusement laced within it that Ciel felt that he'd rather be buried alive than be forced to listen to it any longer. "Do not fret, My Lord. We can handle this."

Sebastian extended out a hand to grasp the boy's shoulder in an attempt to supposedly provide some kind of comfort for the aggrieved child, but Ciel wasn't having it. He snapped upwards like lightning and shoved Sebastian's arm away from him, his insides boiling with embarrassed rage. "Don't touch me! I told you to leave!"

Sebastian appeared to stiffen for a moment, a tinge of shock flaring in his eyes at the boy's harshness, yet gradually, he swept the discarded hand back to his side, his gaze softening with the mock pity that Ciel loathed so profusely.

"Now how would me 'leaving' be any help to you, My Lord?" Sebastian uttered quietly, his voice soothing, like simpering rain. "And I advise that you please, quieten down. I don't suppose you want anyone else to come rushing in here."

Ciel scoffed, folding his arms across his chest and clutching his trembling shoulders in a vice grip, but still he dipped his head low in submission, his long, charcoal bangs draping over his eyes, concealing them from the man that stood so resolute before him.

Ciel heard Sebastian exhale heavily. "Good. Now that you've settled down a bit, allow me to assist you. I'm aware that you are embarrassed and want to be left alone, but I don't believe that would be in your best interests at the moment. Therefore, if you will accept it, my Lord, I shall run a bath for you, and while you are bathing, I shall deal with the bed sheets. Does that satisfy you, Master?"

At first, Ciel didn't reply, glaring downwards into his lap, flinching when he noticed how shamefully damp it was. A bath sounded heavenly, anything to cleanse this vile sensation that he felt lavished his entire body, not just the places that were still dripping, but voicing such a thing was almost the equivalent of trying to regurgitate one's tongue. Yet eventually, he managed a croak, his voice so low that it could have been lost to the silence if Sebastian hadn't been the demon that he was. "Y-yes... That's f-fine..."

Sebastian bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment to his reply. "Very well, I will prepare your bath immediately." Without another word, Sebastian strode off into the ensuite, leaving Ciel alone to brood in his own self-defilement.

Ciel groaned, plunging his face deep into the palms of his hands, trying to quell the tears that had swelled pathetically in his eyes. His throat ached, feeling suddenly tight and sore. He felt stupid, disgusting, utterly childish. This hadn't happened in years. Why was it happening now? He was thirteen years old, for God's sake! What...what was wrong with him?

Sebastian reappeared at the door in a matter of moments, his arm crossed elegantly over his chest, his palm pressed upon his heart, a smooth, consoling smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Ciel could just see it as he peered out through the slim gaps between his fingers. "Your bath is now ready, Master."

With a curt, rigid nod, Ciel hauled himself over the side of the bed and stood, his clothes squelching awfully with the movement, causing him to shiver. His legs quaking, Ciel tiptoed across the length of the room, slipping passed Sebastian with his eyes fixated on the royal-blue carpet below as to not accidentally make eye-contact. He entered the ensuite, his bare feet pattering lightly against the glistening ivory tiles as he clicked the door shut gently behind him.

Breathing in the floral, velvety aroma of lavender that permeated from the simmering, ceramic bathtub by his side, Ciel started to go through the process of undressing himself, which wasn't much of a process at all with only a nightshirt to relieve himself of. Wriggling out of his nightshirt and allowing it to fall from his shoulders, he winced in humiliation as the sopping material dropped to the floor with a wet splat. Now completely nude and yearning to get this itchy, foul-smelling urine off of his legs, Ciel stepped into the basin and sank down into its warm, soapy depths.

Despite the utter tribulation of the night's events, Ciel couldn't help but close his eyes and sigh in bliss when his tension-riddled body became surrounded in hot, steaming water. If he had to be in such an unsightly predicament, he might as well reap the little luxuries while he could...

XXX

 **Hey guys!**

 **This was just a chapter that I needed to do. I love these types of stories, as long as they're not cringy and keep the characters mostly in character.**

 **Thank you for reading! The next chapter ties in with this one and will be up soon. Get excited!**

 **I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **HeartElyse**


	12. A Father's Love

**FINAL CHAPTER - READ AUTHOR'S NOTES BEFORE STARTING**

 **Hey guys!**

 **Welcome to the final chapter of 'His Butler, a Father's Touch'. Yes, this sadly is the final chapter. I was going to let you know in the previous chapter, but at the time, it was still a little uncertain whether this would actually be the last chapter or not. But now it's official, and I'm both glad and devastated as a result. Had I of had more time, I might've kept going a bit longer with this, but even so, I'm happy with how it's ended.**

 **I want to sincerely thank everyone who has ever reviewed, faved, followed, or just taken a peep at this story. Your support is just extraordinary and I'm overjoyed that I managed to make so many people happy through writing this story.**

 **I have another Black Butler fanfic in the works right now, which I hope to begin posting soon. The idea is a little out there and may be quite controversial, but I hope it will open readers to new possibilities. So please check that out (once it comes out and if you're interested of course) and make sure to check out my other Black Butler stories (again, if you're interested).**

 **Once again, thank you all so much!**

 **HeartElyse**

XXX

 ** _His Butler, a Father's Love_**

As Ciel finally exited the bathroom, now freshly clothed and as clean as glittering porcelain, he couldn't completely quiet his heart. Shame still ravished him like the snide beast it was, and despite how eagerly he clung to the threads of pride that appeared to be drawing higher and higher out of his reach, he could not silence his mind's pleading that Sebastian was no longer in his bedroom, but had fled back to the chores that so urgently required his attention at such a preposterous hour of the evening. Maybe that way, Ciel could entirely eradicate the ordeal from his memory and sleep in peace; well at least until morning, when he'd be stirred out of his groggy stupor by Sebastian pouring his usual cup of Earl Grey tea with the most noble of demeanours and would brutally be reminded of the predicament all over again, much to Ciel's chagrin. During his bath, Sebastian had knocked numerous times at the closed door, inquiring whether his Lord was in need of his assistance or not, to which Ciel had withered amidst the frothy rivulets of bath water, strangling out a rather heated 'no', yearning more than anything for the butler to just get the message and leave him alone.

Yet, as Ciel most precariously cracked open the door to shuffle his way into the room, his eyes instantly graced Sebastian's towering presence in the shadows cast by the candelabrum situated on the bedside table, the sheets of the bed as impeccable as ever without a single crease to tarnish them, so finely tucked around the mattress that it was as if no problem had ever arisen to ruin them in the first place. If it wasn't for the soiled blankets still curled up in the corner of the room, than Ciel might have actually allowed himself to believe it.

"Ah, my Lord," the demon greeted with a flaccid coil of his lips, rearing up his head from the silver trolley that had miraculous materialised at his side. Rearing up a smooth hand, he gestured towards the bed, goading softly, "Please, Master, do sit down. We have much to discuss."

At his sides, Ciel clenched his hands into fists, so harshly that his knuckles turned as pale as snow. An anger that he could not explain erupted within him, so immense that he was almost choked by it. He held his eyes upon Sebastian's chiseled features, pouring all of his displeasure into his smouldering gaze, the flecks of violet and sapphire in each individual irise alight and blazing. With a stiff teeter upon his heels, he stalked forward, his shoulder blades bunched together, his teeth grinding with every step and as he sunk himself down upon the mattress, his entire frame began to quake, the bottled rage striking out against the barriers of his skin, threatening to burst out of him.

Seemingly contented, Sebastian extended a simmering ceramic cup of warmed milk towards Ciel, implying for him to take. It was in this moment, as Ciel glared at the cup with his appearance contorted and his gut seething that his ignorance was stripped away and realisation came crashing down upon him. His fury, his loathing, his sorrow, his pain was all a result of him, that vile, wretched demon that was so fondly grinning at him, with claret eyes flaring so luridly among the implacable fronds of semi-darkness that Ciel could only feel the infuriation grow hotter, churning inside him like beast raring to roar. He had suffered beatings, hours of unrequited humiliation, days of guilt, millenniums of shame, and nights of incessant terror, all because of a monster that took enjoyment out of swimming in his misery, taking his heart in its hands and thrusting it in and out of his chest until it crumbled and bled. It was a phantom that believed it could attach any face to its name and be any face that it chose to disguise itself with. But Ciel wasn't going to let it anymore. It could never be what - in the very depths of his drowned soul - he truly wanted. It was merely an illusion, a projection of his longings and desires. That was why it looked so much like the man that he had loved so dearly - the stone that had always kept him rooted, the rock that had always bound him to safety, the figure that had always been his salvation. But that fiend could never, ever be him.

Releasing an animalistic snarl, Ciel sent the tea cup flying with a scathing swat of his palm, the force so acute upon it that it shattered on impact upon the carpeted floor, a shower of glass splaying out across the entire room, a pool of blanched milk slowly draining into the rug.

"Young Master!" Sebastian cried in a voice pitched with pure astonishment, a flood of shock rippling over his entire face.

Ciel payed no heed to the demon's bewilderment whatsoever, but sprung up from where he was situated upon the mattress and became victim to a bout of erratic pacing, gasping raggedly as he stormed about the room, hugging himself so tightly that he was almost certain bruises would begin to bloom. Sebastian attempted to call out to him again, however, Ciel was too incensed to respond, so furious that he feared his frail little body might not be able to handle the pressure and would be rendered apart at the seams. It wasn't until Sebastian advanced forward and placed his fluid palms over Ciel's arms that Ciel was coaxed to react, and react he did.

"Don't touch me!" Ciel shrieked so irately that his voice broke, his body practically exploding with motion as he threw his fists forward, flinging the unbidden hands away before scrambling backwards, retreating into the corner of the room, where he shuddered monstrously, watching Sebastian with eyes frozen with unquenchable rage and unrestrainable panic. The demon made no attempt to near him again, but pondered over his appearance with eyes weeping with superficial anxiety, anxiety that only served to make the blood gush louder in his ears. As the Butler began to speak, attempting to reason with him, Ciel could not decipher a sound, but cut him off before he could continue any further, lashing out with a voice so scalding that it turned to gravel upon the open air.

"Why, demon? Why are you doing this? What could you possibly want from me?! ISN'T MY SOUL ENOUGH?!"

The demon was overtaken by this, his figure drawing backwards by the slightest amounts, his eyes shrinking into white pools of uncertainty. "My Lord, whatever do you mean?"

Ciel's eyes shrivelled with tears that he so gruellingly hated as he went surging forward in a frenzy of pure rage, where he infringed upon the demon's space, treading so close that Ciel could smell the pungent cologne marring the Butler's figure. Concealing the stark aroma of death beneath. The demon did not budge an inch, not even as Ciel's nose practically brushed upon the soft ebony silk of his tie, but remained imperviously still, as unaffected as a mountain looming upon a catastrophic horizon. It was the second time in a very marginal space of time that he wished to murder Sebastian, and had a dagger made its presence known in his hand right now, he might've actually followed through with it. He was aware that his pistol was waiting in hibernation underneath his pillow, and yet it was too far for him to reach right now and would offer a blow too painless for his liking, unlike a stiletto, in which he could drag out the suffering until the very name of suffering had bled itself dry. So, he resorted to pummelling his small fists upon the demon's chest, words punching out of him with each strike he inflicted, streams of anguish riveting from his voice in waves.

"Is this all a game to you?! Or did you honestly think you could replace him? My own _father_?! Do you think you could somehow ever compare to him? Because if you did, than you're wrong! How dare you... HOW DARE YOU! YOU HAD NO RIGHT! No right at all... My father's dead... Not you, not anyone can replace him... Do you understand me?"

Ciel unceremoniously sunk into the demon, his weak fists giving up their little onslaught and instead grappling around the demon's breast pockets, his legs quivering so much that he feared they might just buckle at any moment. It was then that Ciel heard a quiet chuckle rumble from above and upon perceiving the noise, Ciel precariously reared up his head to see the smirk that he so blatantly dreaded dancing upon the demon's lips, russet eyes shimmering delicately with amusement.

"Ah, it appears that all along you have always misunderstood me, my Lord," the demon breathed so airily that a shiver tumbled down Ciel's spine. "That was never my intention at all. It was never my intention to replace your father."

"W-what?" Ciel managed to croak out through all the cotton balls of emotion that were rapidly suffocating him. The demon was not impacted at all by his question, but continued as though he had never been interrupted.

"It had come to my attention that although my Lord and myself are under contract, and that said contract will end, there is no telling of exactly when. Perhaps it shall end in the next week or so. Perhaps it shall end in several years. There is no knowing. So, as your Butler, I decided to take it upon myself to show you the ways of a true gentleman and guide you to the right path so that you would grow into a fine young man, if you ever are to grow that old. That is all there is to it, Master. Nothing more, and nothing less."

Ciel gaped senselessly at Sebastian, mouth incurably dry, eyes incredibly wide. The pieces of himself, the pieces that he had been trying desperately to hold together all this time, he could feel them all slipping away. And this last push, this last suppression of his desires, this last flux of shame, was all he needed for the pieces to completely fall apart.

"O-oh," was all Ciel could muster, his throat so constricted that it was almost impossible for him to breathe. With nothing more he could possibly ever hope to say and fearing the tears might start spilling out in this very moment, Ciel turned his back upon Sebastian and fled from the room, sprinting down the corridors, vaulting down the stairs, ignoring his Butler's cries, not caring for the marked eye that stood flush upon his features like a sore thumb. He wanted out of the manor. He wanted to be as far away as he could get himself from that unsightly demon. He just wanted to be left alone...

XXX

Clad in only a nightshirt, the night air was bitterly cold, howling with flecks of frigid sleet, biting into him like fangs gnawed upon tender flesh. Ciel trudged through the snow-riddled garden, his arms bound tightly over his shoulders, as though the flimsy barrier of skin might just hold the gale at bay. He had not felt this frozen in a long time - teeth chattering, entire being roiling with shivers - but made no move to return back to the mansion, and instead kept winding himself further into the maze, hoping he would grow lost eventually and maybe die of hypothermia. It was a nice fantasy, he had to admit. If only it could be real...

He did not know how long exactly he walked, but he suspected it had been a while, for he had lost track of his direction a while ago and his legs had started to ache quite badly, not to mention, his clothes had become so drenched from the plumes of sleet that had shrouded him amidst the breeze that the fabric had become a film of ice across his entire body. But what was the most prominent factor of all was how the tears had welled so savagely within his eyes that he could no longer even see anymore. The pain had been building to, as had the emotions, rising so high within him that it had reach a point of unbearable.

With a whimper, Ciel collapsed pitifully to his knees and stooping his face low into his freezing fingers, he began to sob. Tears landed like kisses of warmth upon his cheeks before being corrupted by the breeze and turned into droplets of unforgiving cold. Cries jerked his frame, unshakeable, unstoppable, undeniable, so excruciating that he would deal with the symbol of the contract being branded into his eye a thousand times over than go through such a despicable thing as this again. It was foolish, humiliating, and he loathed it with every fibre of his soiled soul, but he could not quell it, no matter how hard he struggled.

Of course! What had he been expecting? Had he honestly hoped the demon would say yes? That he really was trying to replace his father? Had that really been what Ciel had wanted most? He could not believe he had been so stupid. So stupid as to believe that a demon would possess such kindness. What an utter fool he was! What a fool he was indeed...

His desires had become his weakness. His weakness had become his desires. And it had left such a gaping wound inside of him that it would be quite some time before it healed.

He did not need to wait long before broad arms coiled around him and drew him upwards into a vast chest, where he lay cradled, his face still hidden behind his hands, tears still leaking free. He did not retaliate against the arms that carried him, feeling far too cold and fragile to do so, but strangled out mournfully to the said arms, "I've been such a fool, Sebastian."

"Yes, you have," came the gentle reply, the tone so soothing that it was almost like butter upon Ciel's ears. "But rightfully so, my Lord, if I do say so myself."

Ciel peeked up his bloodshot eyes to focus them upon Sebastian's swimming features within the ambience of the Winter's night, a curious waver taking hold of his injured voice. "How?"

The demon provided a generous smile and Ciel was stunned to find it laced with no mockery whatsoever, but to be as pure and honest as an ivory canvas that had been untouched by the garish hues of paint. "It is clear that your father loved you very much, my Lord. I am certain that there is no child in this world that doesn't desire the love and affections of its father. As much as I'm sure it grieves you, my Lord, you are not different."

Ciel withered at this, but said no more. Sebastian continued without a hitch.

"But, Master, you are aware more than any other human being on this earth that you can not dwindle on the past. Your father has left you now and no one, not even I can take his place, and I doubt, in truth that you really ever desired me to. Use this sorrow to take action, my Lord. Use it to fuel your desire for revenge, for that is all you can reach for now."

Ciel clung to his Butler's words for dear life, as though they were the very ropes that could tug him free from this hell he'd been abandoned in. With a quavering exhale, he spoke, and despite the jitters of his jaw due to the cold still encasing him, his voice was as steady as ever. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Sebastian. I have allowed the past to infect me, but I must now realise my mistake and move on. My father won't come back and wishing for him to do so is only a waste of time. I can only seek vengeance for his death now and make sure that he did not die in vain."

Sebastian dipped his head in agreement, whispering lightly into Ciel's ear, "Very good, my Lord. Now come, I believe another bath is in order. I can't allow you to get sick again, now, can I?"

"No, I suppose not," Ciel responded, squirming a little, an unpleasant question bubbling up inside him. "S-Sebastian? You're not - not going to punish me for the spilt milk earlier, a-are you?"

Sebastian purred at this, his condescending smirk stirring upon his features once more. "No, I believe you have been through enough for one night, my Lord. In fact, I shall discontinue my punishments if you desire -"

"No," Ciel cut in, feeling rather idiotic for what he was about to suggest. "If you believe that this 'discipline' shall assist me in future endeavours, than I see n-no reason to discontinue."

With his grin stretching to the rank of Cheshire, Sebastian once again nodded his head, pressing his arms more tightly around his Lord to bring some heat back into the child's frigid bones. "Of course, my Lord. As you wish."

And with that, the two wandered in comfortable silence back into the solace of the manor's walls, leaving all the pain and suffering forever spiralling away into the wind...


End file.
